The Dark Heart
by lickitysplit
Summary: To become the Lord of the Underworld, Meliodas gave up his heart for power. Now he does not feel, he does not suffer, he does not desire. Yet somehow, when a beautiful goddess catches his eye one day, he finds himself awakening. Pre-Holy War AU. Rating for adult material.
1. Part One

**Summary:** To become the Lord of the Underworld, Meliodas gave up his heart for power. Now he does not feel, he does not suffer, he does not desire. Yet somehow, when a beautiful goddess catches his eye one day, he finds himself awakening. Pre-Holy War AU. Rating for adult material.

 **A/N:** My effort to spam the fandom continues! (Just kidding!)

This story came about from my daughter, who has been incredibly curious about Greek myth lately. Revisiting some of the stories I have loved my whole life got the words flowing. I worked on this story for about a month solid, and now I have this fic to share with you all. I hope you enjoy, and your thoughts and feedback are always welcome. Updates to this story will be posted every Tuesday, so please come back next week for the next chapter!

When you are done reading, please _please_ go and check out _**Take My Heart**_ by my dear friend **BettyBest2**. I had shared this story with her for her feedback, and after reading just the first chapter she ended up writing her own AU! It is a parallel of this story, but also completely different, so we are publishing our stories in tandem. Her story is absolutely wonderful and I know you will enjoy it as well.

I must give my sincere thanks to BettyBest2 for reading this for me and giving her feedback. And as always, I must thank Vetur02 for being cheerleader, sounding board, and motivator.

* * *

 **Part One**

 _You bring the light clasped round you, and although  
_ _I knew you'd bring it, knew it as I waited,  
_ _knew as you'd come that you'd come cloaked in light  
_ _I had forgotten what light meant, and so  
_ _this longed for moment, so anticipated,  
_ _I stand still, dazzled by my own delight._

— _Jo Waltron_

Meliodas sits in his throne, staring up at the ceiling. The room is dark and quiet, the only light source the lighted torches hanging from sconces along the wall. It's just the way he likes it: silent, alone, undisturbed. His judgments done for the day, he has left the souls of the damned to his two brothers to carry out the decreed punishments.

But something is different this time, something unusual. Meliodas is… bored. His fingers twitch without notice against the arms of the ornate chair, drumming lightly against the thick metal. Normally he would take this time to enjoy the solitude; perhaps he would take a meal or enjoy a drink as he sat and pondered his kingdom. As the ruler of the Underworld, it is his duty to pass judgment on the souls that arrived in his realm, and it is a duty he enjoys immensely. Yet for some reason he cannot name, today it is not enough.

With a flick of his wrist, the ceiling dissolves, revealing images of Britannia, land of the living. Occasionally Meliodas will observe the goings-on of the creatures that will one day be his subjects, although typically there is little that strikes his interest. The trials and loves and sufferings of the living is of little use to him. Once in a while, however, he will find some amusement through watching them, so today he allows the images to float over Britannia. His expression remains unchanged as one picture after another slides by, his eyes rolling at the uninteresting scenes unfolding in front of him.

He is about to dismiss the images when the vision lands on a group of women in a field of flowers. Their beauty piques his interest for a moment, so he hesitates to enjoy the sight of them for a moment. Apart from the others, flowing silver hair catches his attention, and he focuses on that scrap of color, the image sharpening for his scrutiny. It's clear now that these are no ordinary women, but instead are _goddesses_ , creatures that bring life to Britannia. Even now they walk among the tall grasses, the flora nearly bending towards them, attracted by their powers. But the silver-haired one is sitting apart from the others, only the top of her head visible.

The hair is caught by the breeze, and his vision moves in tighter, his curiosity now growing. The goddess lifts one hand and brushes it over the tops of the grass, and flowers instantly bloom, white and yellow buds appearing and opening outwards. She turns her head and smiles, and Meliodas swallows thickly. This goddess is the most beautiful one he has ever seen, and the vision of her is startling in its effect on him in that moment.

Someone must have said something, because the girl looks over her shoulder and speaks, her lovely rose-colored lips moving. Two large blue eyes, the deep color of jewels, blink up towards the sky. She absentmindedly drifts her hands around her sides and pillows of clovers erupt from the ground. Her mouth forms a smile that he finds captivating, and to his delight the goddess sinks backwards, more clover blooming to form a pillow for her head, until she disappears into the grass.

For a short while Meliodas remains frozen in his chair, watching for movement, but the goddess does not show any signs of leaving. He has no idea why he is so curious, but there is something there, that is more than certain. What is also certain is that this question of _who_ she is and _why_ he finds her so curious will not go away until it is answered. Therefore Meliodas, lord of the Underworld, rises from his throne for the first time in an age, using his dark powers to form wings that stretch out from his back. Without a word of warning he takes off in flight, sweeping through the dark and twisted palace that is his home, and then up, up, through the barrier of the Underworld, until he arrives in Britannia.

The light of the sun is blinding, and for a moment Meliodas falters. It had been years beyond counting since he had last left his domain. His senses are suddenly assaulted, the brightness of the sky, the sound of birds calling, the feel of fresh breezes on his skin, the smell of the green grass and the salt of the ocean all converging on him at once. But he quickly recovers, his dark powers flaring again as he steadies himself. Some call him a _god_ , others a _demon_ ; either way, Meliodas is the most powerful being in or under Britannia, as all that inhabit above eventually succumb to death, and therefore live to eventually serve him.

Meliodas stretches out his powers in search of the silver-haired beauty that roused him from his chair. The intrigue of the girl has whet his appetite, and for a moment he considers a quick detour to devour a few souls; but he is afraid he will miss his chance to find her before she returns behind the shining gates of the goddess realm, so he continues on. He flies through Britannia like a cursed shadow, bringing a shivering cold to all who see him, and an empty horror to those unlucky enough to be touched by his darkness as he sweeps by. He chuckles to himself as one or two actually expire of fright, knowing he will see them when he returns to his place in the Underworld, the irony amusing him greatly.

Britannia is vast, but not for one such as he; soon he spots the field. The goddesses are gone, and his anger flares, furious that he has missed his chance. But then there is a movement among the grass, and silently he touches down, crouching low to the earth to remain hidden from any possible enemy.

Another breeze blows by, the grass bending. Slowly, quietly, he moves towards a warm energy nearby, and after a minute he sees why there was no more movement: the silver-haired girl is asleep.

A laugh escapes him, and Meliodas crouches again next to the girl. Appreciatively his eyes drag along the goddess, and takes in the gift and curse that is her form: creamy skin, tiny waist, lovely curves, slim arms and legs. But her beautiful figure is nothing compared to the elegant features of her face, the long lashes dusting softly colored cheeks, the heart-shaped mouth parted slightly. Something inside him stirs, something that he has not felt in ages upon ages. At first he does not recognize what it is, his eyes drinking in the girl who sleeps without a care in the grass. She reminds him of a ripened fruit, ready to be plucked right off the vine, and before he realizes it he is reaching out a hand to caress the skin of her white arm.

When Meliodas makes contact, it's as if a shock of electricity shoots through him, and with a frown he pulls back. The demon does not _feel_ things, whether pain or pleasure, hunger or thirst, not longing or regret or elation. All he knows is the satisfaction of his orderly kingdom. Meliodas had surrendered his heart a lifetime ago in order to rule his chosen kingdom, a decision that had served him well over the millennia as his realm grew in power and numbers. So the electricity that seems to jump into his skin, and the curiosity that causes an unfamiliar twinge deep in his chest, is foreign and strange.

He watches her sleep, the corner of his mouth turning up without his knowledge as he watches her chest rise and fall with slow, deep breaths. The breeze that moves the grass blows a few tendrils across her chest, and Meliodas reaches out to brush them back to their spot. For a moment he twists the silky locks between his fingers, the smile turning to a concentrated pressing of his lips as he examines her hair. It is unthinkable to him to be so affected. Is this girl more than a goddess? Is she an enchantress of some kind?

If she is, how could she even have any power over a god?

He tugs on her hair experimentally, and the girl stirs. His chest constricts in surprise, the feeling completely throwing him. When was the last time Meliodas was _surprised_? But nevertheless he quickly releases her hair before she wakes, not wanting to be caught.

But before he can move, her eyes open, the blue jewels he had seen in the vision providing no justice for the real thing in front of him now; the goddess lands her gaze on him, leaning over her, his hand still partially extended from when he had touched her hair. For a long moment, both are frozen as they stare at one another, and again Meliodas feels… something. It is deep within him, like a tugging memory or a whisper in his ear, as as he looks in her eyes he has the sense that the answer to this odd sensation can be found there.

Her eyes widen, her breath catching in a nearly inaudible gasp. The small sound is enough to make him move, not out of fear or shame, but simply overwhelmed by the unusual events that have unfolded. Before he allows himself to linger a minute more his power swells outward and he takes to the sky again, heading towards the entrance to the Underworld.

* * *

Silver hair, blue eyes, soft lips, rounded hips, blushing cheeks, dark lashes… these are the thoughts weighing heavily on the lord of the dead in the days that come. The seemingly endless train of pitiful souls come to him for their sentence, and with barely a thought he sends them on their way, either to Purgatory, to spend their days roaming among one another for the rest of eternity, or into Tartarus, to receive punishment for the wickedness they had done while alive.

The king has two brothers whose roles are to carry out the punishments: Estarossa of Love, who deals with those who wrought evil on other humans, and Zeldris of Piety, who sees to those souls who defied the gods. Meliodas rarely feels the need to interfere with their work, as they are both masters of their arts. He judges each soul as it passes through the dark gates and into his realm, and then sentences the wretches on to either exist in Purgatory or be handed over to one or both of his brothers. It is a task that has given him quite a bit of satisfaction over the years and years since taking the role of lord and master of the dead. But now will anything satisfy him ever again?

After sending one soul after another to Purgatory, the demons arrive to investigate. "Brother!" Estarossa calls as he enters the king's presence, and Meliodas starts in his chair, having just been lost in his own thoughts. "I thought something must be wrong. I've had no offerings today."

"Neither have I," Zeldris calls as he steps out from behind the shadows in the room. "Are you feeling particularly merciful today?"

"Merciful?" Meliodas asks, confused, and Estarossa laughs. "That last one was a rapist, you know," he says thoughtfully. "I had something rather fun planned for him."

"Something distracting His Grace?" asks Zeldris with a frown.

The king clears his throat and clutches the arms of his throne tightly. "Go back to your own places," he snaps at them. "Do not come here and bother me with your complaints. I am the king here, never forget that."

The two demons exchange a glance, but neither argue. In a wink they are both gone, and Meliodas finds himself blessedly alone. But they are right, he knows they are right. He is distracted in his duties, and there is only one thing, one person, who will satisfy him enough to regain his focus.

Once again he gazes into the ceiling, the images swirling until they land on _her_. She is dancing, her hair flowing behind her as she twirls with another goddess, and Meliodas' chest seizes with the vision. Her long slim legs stretch out with the dance, her lithe arms raised above her head, her cheeks flushed with exertion and laughter. She is fresh and vibrant and so full of life that for a moment, Meliodas can hardly breathe.

The contrast of this girl against his own dark nature is so enthralling that again, the lord of the dead rises, again he takes off in flight to return to Britannia. He knows that the vision of her is nothing compared to the real thing, and he will see the girl in her beauty and youth as she celebrates. Nothing would bring him more pleasure than that, he is sure; at the same time, he is uneasy in wanting this so badly, unused to such desire… _any_ desire, in fact.

Meliodas pushes this aside as he travels across Britannia. It is evening now, the sky a deep blue, the stars just beginning to appear. When he senses the girl he touches down, weaving through the trees as he approaches. There are lights and voices up ahead, and a bit of music. For a moment he stops to just listen and look. It had been more years than he could begin to count since he heard music.

Finally he continues on. A white tent is opened on a small field, humans milling around, talking and laughing and eating. Meliodas spies the group with instruments as they strike up another tune, and many of the humans begin to dance, their calls overlapping the clapping of their hands. It is a mesmerizing sight to see such exuberance, but overall it does not interest him terribly much. These humans may enjoy their evening now, but in the end, it is meaningless. They are destined for the Underworld eventually, and there is no such frivolity _there_. As Meliodas well knows, there is no escaping fate.

A few astute humans turn and peer into the shadows, sensing dread approaching, so Meliodas keeps a fair distance as he circles the party. With so much celebration it is no wonder that there are goddesses nearby, come to bless whatever event occurred to spark the festivities. He recognizes a certain dip in the ground, and walks with long strides towards where he spotted the girl in his vision.

A smile forms on his lips when he spies her. She and another goddess are performing a dance together in the field, a bit beyond the party. It is nearly completely dark now, but there is light enough from the tent in the distance. He can make out her shape easily as she bends, her arms extended as she spins, and his heart stirs when he hears the sound of her gasping laughter. The other girl grabs her hand, and his goddess gives a little shriek. It jolts through Meliodas, who is suddenly ready to spring forward and wrench the other girl away for causing her harm, but then he realizes they are laughing gaily, turning together in a wild circle.

It is nearly overwhelming to watch. Meliodas can feel his breathing speeding up as he follows the girl with his eyes. All at once he wants to join the dance, as ridiculous as the idea is: he wants to see her eyes on him again, her smile as he turns her, her laughter knowing it is because of _him_. But the king of the Underworld does nothing but watch, his body frozen in his crouch among the trees.

The music ends, and the two girls collapse against one another in a fit of giggles. "Come, we must go," the other goddess says, pulling on her friend's hand.

"But Margaret," the silver-haired one says, "I want to stay."

Her voice is more beautiful than he had dared to imagine: light and clear and delicate, like the goddess herself. Meliodas blinks rapidly at the sound, wondering again if he is under some sort of spell. He watches as Margaret pulls the girl towards where he is hiding, but he is still too dazed at the sound to further conceal himself, praying she speaks again.

"If we stay, someone might see us," Margaret admonishes gently. "Besides, we have done our duty and blessed the marriage. There is no reason for us to stay."

His goddess follows obediently, but her head turns as she looks longingly back at the tent. "But I've never actually _seen_ what the humans do. They say they _fall in love_ , but I just want to see what it looks like!"

Margaret scoffs. "Falling in love is just something silly the humans say when they claim one another. It's not real, and it only leads to misery."

"Misery?" gasps the girl. "How?"

With a pained voice, Margaret answers, "Because you must give your heart to another."

There is a pause before the goddess sighs, "But can't we just—"

"No, Elizabeth," her sister responds kindly, but sharply.

 _Elizabeth_. Meliodas whispers the name to himself, feeling his skin growing warm.

The other goddess stops abruptly. She peers suspiciously into the shadows, and Meliodas realizes he has not been keeping his powers in check, distracted by the girl's voice and learning her name. Quickly he draws into himself, but the damage has been done. "Elizabeth," the goddess murmurs. "Go straight back. I'll meet you there. There is something here, watching."

Elizabeth gasps. "Margaret! Please don't—"

"Just _go_ , Elizabeth!" the goddess insists, and then she is darting forward into the trees. Meliodas shrinks further into the shadows so that she cannot sense him, and watches as Elizabeth stands frozen for a moment, her eyes wide with worry as she watches her friend go. Then she turns and hurries away, her hair and her dress floating behind her.

Meliodas moves as well, trailing the goddess. What is it about this girl that calls to him? He cannot say for sure, but there is no doubt that her beauty and innocence are alluring. Curious about where she is heading, he follows silently. The goddess is heading in the opposite direction, back towards where the trees begin… but then she pauses, turning to look over her shoulder.

Before he can blink she hurries back towards the humans, and Meliodas must be quick to remain hidden. Together they draw closer, Elizabeth creeping along quietly to catch a better look, the demon behind her unnoticed. She presses against the trunk of a tree, then peers around it, and Meliodas' breathing stutters as he watches her catch her lip with her teeth. She looks so beautiful then, her silver hair sparkling, the light from the party giving her skin a soft glow, the glimpse of a rosy hue on her cheeks.

The noise from the celebration has died down. Now there are voices, but Meliodas does not pay much attention. Yet Elizabeth is enraptured, even daring to step out from her hiding place, moving behind a thicket of bushes in order to get closer. Meliodas moves as well, drawing towards the goddess, until he is just a few feet away. He watches her eyes grow wider as she watches the activity inside the tent, and in amazement he sees tears forming in her eyes, her lashes heavy and wet as she briefly closes them. But she is not sad; the goddess is smiling, the color on her cheeks deepening, and she brings a hand up to softly press against her lips.

The air is suddenly too thick, too tight to breathe. Then a loud cheer goes up from the tent, startling both goddess and demon. The girl darts away, her pale form disappearing into the treeline, and Meliodas gives chase. She is faster than he expects, easily moving through the forest, but he has little difficulty keeping pace with her. Finally she stops and presses her back against the trunk of a great oak tree, her hands behind her, her head leaning back as she closes her eyes.

Meliodas pauses too, but then his feet bring him closer on their own accord. Her figure is once again shimmering in the moonlight, and his eyes drag over her, memorizing every inch. Her feet are bare, her toes digging into the soft moss at the base of the tree, her ankles delicate. One shapely leg is bent at the knee, her simple dress dusting along her thighs as they press together. Her dress is cut into a deep V-shape at the neckline, covering her bosom but dipping low on her chest, and he can see the smooth white skin rising and falling with her deep breathing. The slope of her neck is graceful as her head falls backwards, the silver hair dusting over bared shoulders, the dark lashes still feathered on the rosy cheeks. Once again she brings her fingers up to trace the outline of her plump lips.

Meliodas has not desired a thing in several lifetimes—not since he surrendered his heart for power. But now, looking at this girl, he wants her.

His footfalls are silent as he steps forward. He has no plan in mind; simply staring at her is enough, for now. The sound of her long sigh stirs him, and again he feels something deep within his chest, the echo of some lost sensation he cannot name.

"Love…" she whispers, pressing her lips briefly to her fingertips. "Is that what love is?"

Frowning, the king pauses, waiting to see if she spots him. He wonders why she has a fascination for the human emotion; love is as ludicrous a concept to him as it was to the goddess Margaret. The gods could mate, if they so wished, although Meliodas has never felt inclined to do so. His frown deepens as he wonders if _this_ is why he is so fascinated with the girl; does he want her in that way? Meliodas tries to picture it: the girl on her back, opened and taking his body, taking his seed to bear him a child. But the fantasy feels hollow, unfinished. No, as intriguing as the idea is, there is still… something else.

He is only a few feet away when he hears Elizabeth's breathing stop. He pauses, waiting, and slowly her head turns, her eyes landing on him. They stare at one another for a moment, her gaze drawing him in, and Meliodas feels as caught as he did the first time she spotted him leaning over her as she slept.

Time is frozen as their gazes remain locked. Then Elizabeth says, "I thought you were a dream."

Unsure of how to answer that, Meliodas clears his throat. "You don't have to be afraid. I won't hurt you."

"I'm not afraid," she answers. Her eyes remain wide, and the corners of her lips turn up in a ghost of a smile. "Who are you?"

He opens his mouth to tell her his name, but hesitates. The different races can interact, of course, there is no rule _against_ such a thing… but demons and goddesses? One is for death, the other for life, standing on either side of the creatures that live in Britannia. It is a rare thing for them to even see one another, and suddenly Meliodas is afraid he will frighten her away.

She sees his delay in answering and prompts, "I can tell you are not human. Are you a god?"

Meliodas nods. Her eyes trace over him, and he wonders what she is thinking as she takes in the dark cloak, black pants and boots, the ornate arm bands. He must look like Death; surely she will be afraid _now_. But instead, her eyes lift to look over his shoulder. "What are you doing here? Did you come for the wedding as well?"

"The wedding?" he asks, surprised. "You mean, the humans?" He glances over his shoulder briefly. "No, I am not. I do not deal with humans in Britannia."

She nods, looking at him expectantly. He can tell she wants more of an explanation, so he asks, "Is that why you are here?"

"I am a goddess of life," she answers. "We give blessings when two souls join in marriage." Sighing, she steps away from the tree, turning to sag against the side. "I wish, though, that I was a goddess of love. I wish I could understand what it was." Her eyes flicker over to him thoughtfully. "Do you know?"

Meliodas cannot help the harsh laugh that escapes him. "You are asking _me_ about love?"

Elizabeth blushes furiously, and his blood warms at the sight. "I know, it's a silly question. I tried to look, and I saw…" Again her fingers brush her lips. "I just wish I knew what it all means."

He steps closer, his own curiosity now piqued. "What did you see?" he asks her.

Shyly, the girl's eyes glance away. "They spoke words to one another, giving promises to love for the rest of their lives. I liked that part." Her teeth catches her lower lip, and Meliodas feels his mouth water at the sight. "Then they pressed their lips together—" She gasps, her mouth dropping open. "Could that be it? Is that love?"

He tilts his head as he begins to slowly walk towards her. "I doubt it is that simple."

Her brow creases. "I suppose you are right. Margaret said it was giving your heart away." She looks back up at him through her lashes and asks softly, "Have you ever given your heart to someone?"

At that, he pulls up short, now just a foot away from the goddess. An uncomfortable heat slides up the back of his neck, and he clears his throat. "I have no heart," he finally manages after a moment.

The goddess' eyebrows shoot up in surprise. "No heart! How terrible." Her eyes trace over his face, and Meliodas watches her examine him nervously. Then her gaze lands on his mouth, and she licks her lips again. "Would you… like to try it? Maybe if we do this, then we can feel love too."

His throat goes dry, so he swallows thickly. The desire to know and understand this girl is almost thick around him, and Meliodas nods without thinking, wanting to see what she does next. The goddess steps towards him, closing the gap between them, and as close as they are now he once more admires her beautiful figure and the delicate features of her face.

The silver hair slips forward as she leans in a bit, dangling across one eye, and Meliodas absentmindedly lifts a hand to tuck it back behind her ear. It feels like strings of silk, just as soft as he remembers, and for a moment he allows his touch to linger as his fingers slide through the length of the lock. She is a bit taller than he, so he tilts his face up. Her scent fills him, a combination of sweet flowers and cool water, causing him to take a deep breath, then another.

Both are hesitant as they draw closer still; then she closes her eyes, and he closes his, and their lips brush against each other. Meliodas had expected a shock of pleasure maybe, or perhaps a jolt of feeling at the touch, just like the first time, but instead it's more of a shiver, or as if a slowly moving wave slides over and around him. The kiss is brief, their lips lingering for just a moment or two, before the goddess pulls back.

But Meliodas is not ready for it to be over. He presses forward, pushing his mouth against hers, the touch a bit firmer. He feels her take a deep breath, and when her mouth parts slightly he settles his lips around her lower one, sliding along the plump flesh slowly. She tastes cool and delicious, like a refreshing glass of dark wine. Meliodas sucks gently on her lip, and the goddess makes a small noise so quiet that he wonders if he imagines it.

Elizabeth is the one to pull away again, and this time he allows her. He needs his own moment to catch his breath and allow the dizziness to fade. His chest is squeezing tightly, the faint tremor that had been stirring since he saw her gaining intensity. When he opens his eyes, he is amused to see hers are still closed, and uses the moment to admire the deep shade of blush that is now on her cheeks.

"This must be love," the goddess whispers, her breath feathering against his skin. "This must be what the humans like so much."

Meliodas looks at her, stunned. He does not know what to say, so he says nothing.

She licks her lips and he groans internally, wanting to feel them on his again. "Do you suppose," she whispers again, "that you and I… that we could love each other again?"

 _Yes_ , he thinks to himself. There is something odd happening, something at work that is beyond his imagining. He knows in that moment he will do anything she asks, will obey any command. The idea both thrills and appalls him; he is lord of the Underworld, a powerful being, and yet he is ready to follow the wish of a simple goddess of Britannia. He has never felt so powerful; he has never felt so weak.

"Elizabeth," he says, his voice scraping with need. Meliodas takes a step forward, and without warning his powers flare out sharply as he is overcome with desire to snatch up the goddess and pull her against him. But to his abashment she cringes backwards, her hands clutching against her chest. Frantically he draws his powers back, the fear on her face obvious, but it is too late.

"Who are you?" she cries, nearly strangling. But he does not have a chance to speak, a chance to explain, before she turns and runs into the trees, and the last thing he sees is her shimmering form disappearing into the night.


	2. Part Two

**A/N:** Thank you _so much_ for the beautiful reception for this fic. Please enjoy the rest, and feel free to leave a comment. And make sure you do not miss BettyBest2's companion story, _Take My Heart_!

* * *

 **Part Two**

 _I asked him for it.  
_ _For the blood, for the rust,  
_ _for the_ sin _.  
_ _I didn't want the pearls other girls talked  
_ _about,  
_ _or the fine marble of palaces,  
_ _or even the roses in the mouth of servants.  
_ _I wanted pomegranates_ —  
 _I wanted darkness,  
_ _I wanted him._

— _Daniella Michallen_

Elizabeth sits on the side of a brook, tiredly watching the water drift by. She had barely slept the night before, now frightened that the mysterious god would appear again as he did the first time.

She feels foolish for speaking to him, trusting him so _easily_. Margaret and the others always commented on her free spirit, teasing her for her naiveté. But Elizabeth could not help it; she is simply so _curious_ about the world, about the other races and how life is lived in Britannia. She catches whatever glimpses she can when she visits the world of the humans, but so many things remain a mystery.

For example, the god that has now visited her twice. Elizabeth is burning to ask Margaret or one of the others about him, but something inside of her warns to keep her own counsel. He seemed so dark, but not dangerous… yet something about him, when his power had flared, had startled her terribly. She supposes that she should not have run, sure that he would not have hurt her, and assumes he would have answered any questions she had. But she was already so distracted by the wedding, and then the feeling of his mouth on hers…

With a shiver, Elizabeth sighs, leaning over to swirl her fingers in the water. It is cool and crisp, and a smile slides easily on her face. The little fish in the stream swim over, eagerly seeking her attention, and the goddess chuckles. Tucking her knees up underneath of her body, she leans over, bracing herself on her hands and dangling over the edge to see her own reflection.

Two blue eyes stare back, silver hair twisted now into a simple knot on the back of her head. One wisp hangs down as she turns her head to the side, examining her jawline and cheekbones. Then her eyes focus on her lips, and suddenly she can feel the god pressing against them again, the way he sucked on her gently, the way his mouth moved to breathe in her sigh.

Deep inside her, something is stirring; something exciting and alluring and provocative all at once. The sensation flutters inside of her, every nerve feels as though it is tingling.

Elizabeth can hear the others nearby, but does not feel like joining them just yet. One will come searching for her eventually, and until then she plans to enjoy the solitude. As much as Elizabeth loves her sisters, often she feels most at peace by herself, which is another thing that the goddesses will tease her about. She sits back on the bank, drawing her knees up to rest her head on top, giving herself to the quiet.

But when she closes her eyes, once more the unknown god appears. He is by far the most intriguing mystery so far in Britannia. Who is he? What does he want? Why does he appear to her? Elizabeth smiles to herself as she pictures him. The god is a true enigma: his power is dark and dangerous, yet she never felt threatened; he exuded confidence and even a bit of a demanding nature yet spoke to her with gentleness; his youthful looks and short stature belied the obvious strength hidden within. How could he give off the air of one thing, and yet behave as another?

With a heaving sigh, Elizabeth flings herself back onto the ground, a few flowers sprouting up around her for good measure. She settles into the soft grass and looks up through the canopy of trees to see the blue sky. Her hair is feathered around her, and as she crosses her ankles and settles her hands at her sides, the girl closes her eyes and gives herself over to her imagination.

She pictures him again, standing just inches from her, his dark powers drawing her closer instead of pushing her away. She can feel his mouth on hers again, the way his lips formed around her own, the thrilling nibbles on her bottom lip, the rich taste of him, like spiced red wine. After licking her lips, she catches her lower lip between her teeth, trying to somehow recreate the sensation of him sucking on it. She regrets not trying it on him, her only excuse for pulling away so soon being overwhelmed by the shock of it all. Never in her wildest dreams had she thought such a simple act would be so thrilling.

Then her thoughts start to wander, and Elizabeth imagines not only his mouth on her, but his hands as well. At the wedding, the couple had pulled one another into an embrace as their lips pressed together; should she have done so as well? She giggles for a moment, wondering where _exactly_ a person of his height would put his hands on her, but then stills as she thinks of his hands on her arms, her back, her hips. Her body pressing against his, her breasts flattening on a hard chest, her stomach and thighs being held tightly to him. Yes, she likes this idea very much.

Where would her hands go? Around his neck, certainly; but then another smile forms as she pictures the feel of his long and wild hair in her fingertips, the hard muscle as she traces along his biceps, the curve of his back as she presses against his shoulder blades. All at once her palms itch, the desire to touch him flaring hotly.

Her next thought brings the heat to her face, one hand pressing against the warm, blushing cheek. The humans had shown their act of love by pressing their mouths together; but do they press anywhere else? She caresses her cheekbone, imagining the god's lips tracing over her there. Then down, her finger tracing her jawline, leading over towards her ear, stroking the lobe, drawing around the curved shape. Next her fingertips brush down the side of her neck, causing her to shudder, and Elizabeth knows she wants him to press his lips there, the idea making something within her clench deliciously. Would he want to continue? She knows _she_ would, her hand now moving across the hollow of her neck, grazing her collarbone, moving over the curve of her breast.

She stops there, her breath catching for a moment. Would he taste her there? Elizabeth bites her lip, her thighs pressing together on their own as she arches her back slightly. _Yes_ , if he wanted to, she would allow this. The feeling low and deep returns, some type of longing inside of her core, as she thinks of his lips and his tongue moving over her breasts. Curiously, she presses her hands against her body, panting slightly as her nipples begin to harden, and experimentally her fingers trace around the buds. There is a rush of embarrassed heat that is accompanied by an unexpected flush of wetness between her thighs, and Elizabeth thinks she _would_ want him to put his mouth on her there. She would very much indeed.

Would he go even lower? Elizabeth groans quietly with the thought. Her nails scrape her skin as she moves her hands down her sides. She pictures his teeth grazing her there, his tongue dipping into her navel, and all at once she is drawing up the hem of her chiton, the fabric sliding along her parting thighs. The feeling between her legs has given over to a pulsing sort of ache, and as her hands travel lower, she wonders if he would taste her there if she asked, if he would press his mouth to the part of her now throbbing, if he would use his tongue to lap up the wetness now pooling between her—

"Elizabeth!"

Margaret's scolding tone jolts her from the fantasy, and all at once she is scrambling up to sit, her face blushing furiously. She spins around to see her sister looking at her with a shocked sort of confusion, her mouth hanging slightly open in a way that would have made Elizabeth laugh if she wasn't so overcome with embarrassment. "What in the world are you doing?" Margaret asks, her tone that of absolute bewilderment.

"No-nothing," the goddess stammers, straightening her dress.

Quickly she turns back around, pulling her hair over her face to hide the humiliation. The truth is, Elizabeth has no _idea_ what is happening to her. But whatever it is, she wants it again.

* * *

The days are becoming interminable. Meliodas performs his duties, sentencing one soul after another, his agitation with the _waiting_ until he is free from his role as king and can gaze at his beautiful goddess. The hours stretch on as one by one they enter his presence, some crying, some relieved, but all quaking when his eyes land on them. He reads their souls, drinks in their memories, and then based on what he sees, he sends them through one door or another.

Most of the humans go to the left, off to Purgatory. It is a cavernous place of his own design, free of strife and want and misery. There the souls may wander among one another for eternity, rewarded for their good lives with the blessing that is peaceful nothingness.

Most of the humans, but not all, go on; not even the majority receives the prize of Purgatory. Many of them are sent to the right to face either Estarossa or Zeldris, and pay their penance for breaking the laws of Love and Piety. Those who committed crimes against other humans during their lives must face his brother Estarossa, who often would subject the unfortunate souls to a bit of their own medicine. Meanwhile the faithless who went against the gods are left to Zeldris. Even though he is the youngest of the three, he delights the most in suffering, the punishments he inflicts often cruel and precise.

And so it has been, for years and centuries and millennia, the three demon brothers fulfilling the promise of fate. Such power had not been without sacrifice, and when the three were offered this existence by the gods, each had to surrender something of great worth for the privilege. None hesitated, and none knew regret.

Even now, Meliodas revels in his role, but as each day slips by he finds it growing unsatisfactory. His kingdom grows, his powers strengthen, the loyalty of his brothers and subjects remain unquestioned. But there is something missing, a hole he had never seen before until it was pointed out. And now that he is aware that he needs more than the existence he has lived for lifetimes upon lifetimes, he knows he will never be satisfied again.

Only one thing brings the contentment his reign used to give, and that is watching the goddess. As soon as the souls brought before him are sent off through the doors, Meliodas relaxes and watches Elizabeth through the swirling ceiling of his royal chamber. He observes her in many different ways: sometimes sleeping, sometimes eating, sometimes laughing with the other goddesses, sometimes sitting quietly by herself making a daisy-chain. He knows now her appreciation for sweet berries, and that she will hum to herself when she is alone, and her preference for solitude instead of staying with the larger group. The goddesses work in pairs or in groups as they make their way through Britannia, visiting a new mother or a crop or the animals in the forest, using their magic to assist the life that blooms all over the living world.

His favorite moments are when she is still. After watching with fascination as she performs her duties, sometimes dancing or laying her hands on that which needs healing or shedding a tear for a life that must pass, Elizabeth will often go off on her own, finding a place to sit and reflect to herself. Meliodas likes this part because he can imagine he is there with her, that instead of sitting in his throne he is in the grass or on the riverbank or on the tree branch with her, even if they are not speaking, even if they do nothing but simply _be_. He too enjoys quiet, and solitude, and feels a connection to her with this simple pleasure. The goddess will often gaze into nothingness, a smile on her face, and the demon imagines that she is smiling at something he has told her or something he has done.

His brothers, however, have become increasingly suspicious of the king's behavior. Never before had he judged the souls of the damned so recklessly. It is beyond either to make a comment, but they are aware something has changed, and what's more, Meliodas is also aware of this. One night he obliges them by returning to Britannia to devour a few souls and strengthen their own powers; it is a custom that is not particularly needed, but was an amusing way to pass the time. However, being in the living world practically made him itch, only wanting to go and seek out Elizabeth, knowing she had to be _somewhere_ nearby.

A soul has great power, and each has its own unique flavor. Estarossa quickly finds a family that will suit them all; a father, a mother, and four children. As they descend upon the home, barely a hut in the middle of farmland, the man is heavily intoxicated and beating his children. Meliodas hangs back, the thrill of falling upon the humans already fading, and watches as the other two make swift work of their meal.

Estarossa takes great pleasure in painfully extracting the soul of the father, the man's face red with anger and twisted in horror. The demon has always enjoyed the taste of an evil soul, claiming that they are richer in flavor with so many sins. Zeldris, however, prefers the untainted ones, the souls of the innocent. The children who at first were wide-eyed in wonder and crying in relief at the mysterious strangers who entered their home to rescue them from abuse are now cowering together in fear as the youngest demon approaches. One by one he pulls their little souls from them, their cries grating on Meliodas' nerves. He wishes they would just be _done_ already.

"Brother!" Zeldris calls to him, drawing his attention. "We have left you something. Come eat."

From his place at the door the king sees the bodies of the children now in a heap in the corner. Estarossa is still slowly pulling out the soul of the father, who has thankfully gone silent from the torment. His eyes sweep the room to find the mother sitting on the floor, her eyes wide and staring. He cannot help the smirk on his face as he finally enters the home and the woman's face turns towards him, surely unable to deny the pull of dark power that emanates from the lord of the Underworld.

Meliodas crouches on the ground before the woman, his face passive as he looks her over. There is care and worry etched onto her face, which had been once very beautiful in her youth. She is still young, in fact, but there is little doubt that the years of violence and children and toil have done its work on the girl.

Reading her heart, he is not surprised to see the complicated mix of emotions that is normal for the humans. There is a deep, true love for the man who was raging moments before; but also hurt, and anger, and a hatred that Meliodas can see would have turned her violent eventually. There is an almost primitive love that exists for her children, especially the one son among the four. Yet there is also resentment towards the babes, and a deep-seeded exhaustion with them and this life. He can see she has cursed the gods for her fate, but also prayed to them for favors, but that in itself is not enough of a crime to warrant judgment. This woman, he decides, is perfectly ordinary; if this were his own kingdom, he may have felt pity and sent her through the door to the left.

Then she lifts her eyes, and as they connect he sees the deep blue hue, all at once struck by their similarity to Elizabeth. He reaches out a hand and places it heavily on the top of her head, and searching back through her memories can tell that _his_ goddess had appeared to her at her own wedding, and blessed the birth of two of her children. For a moment he hesitates, wondering if he should take this girl's life; it seems blasphemous to undo the blessing that came from Elizabeth.

"Are you not hungry?" Meliodas looks over towards Estarossa, who is standing and watching. He is finally done with his own meal, the man twisted and frozen on the ground, his hair turned white. "I would be happy to take her off your hands," his brother jokes. "I can see in her heart that she thought of killing her husband. Justice should be given to a soul such as hers."

"No," the king answers sharply. He will not allow a life that had been touched by Elizabeth to be given over to whatever suffering Estarossa must be already planning, and so he grips the girl by the hair to hold her steady. She is nearly catatonic, and Meliodas is sure she cannot understand what is happening. But still he feels he must ask a question. "Why would you stay with this man? Why would you put your children in such peril?"

The room is silent as she stares blankly ahead. When he is sure she will not respond, he pulls her up; but then she surprises him by whispering, "There is no pleasure without pain."

"I will have to take you at your word," Meliodas answers. "For I feel neither."

It is easy to extract her soul, her body sagging as it slides out of her gaping mouth.

The complex emotions and memories are delicious, and under ordinary circumstances Meliodas would have commended Estarossa for such a pleasing catch. But nothing is ordinary anymore, so as he swallows the soul and releases the hair he grips so tightly, the surge in his power feels uncomfortable under his skin.

"Return to the Underworld," he commands as he rises to stand. He can feel the questions they want to ask, so turns and leaves the hut before they can speak.

Meliodas lifts into the sky. It is already night, the moon just taking its position. Without concern he pushes his powers out into the world, almost immediately pinpointing the goddess he seeks. Touching back down to earth, he stalks forward, bringing his powers in tightly around him as not to alert anyone to his presence.

Elizabeth is with the others, and he is glad that he has kept himself hidden. The goddesses are asleep, relaxing on canopied beds made from the forest. A dozen of the beautiful creatures lay about in different states of dress, draped on the beds and blankets as if they had not a care. He finds it amusing that there is not even a guard, but it is lucky for him, because he spots the silver hair among those sleeping. Meliodas carefully presses his powers forward, using the tendrils of his darkness to slide through the hair he is growing to cherish so much and caress her cheek.

A moment later, she stirs from her place sleeping on her side. The way she yawns and stretches her body, rolling from her side to her back, blinking awake, is captivating; is there anything about this girl that will fail to fascinate him? Again he touches her with his mind, and Elizabeth bolts up into a sitting position, looking around wildly.

Her head turns to the side, seeking him out, and the corner of his mouth curls up as he slips backwards into the night. He watches as Elizabeth extracts herself from the grip that her sister has on her arm, careful not to wake her or any of the others, as she picks her way through the sleeping forms. There is no fear on her face, only a curious excitement, and Elizabeth follows his presence as he draws her away from the others.

"Are you there?" she whispers, and his chest seizes. "I am," he whispers back, and a grin breaks over her face. She continues to follow him, until he feels they are at a safe distance, and then he steps out of the shadows to reveal himself.

Elizabeth waits expectantly, her expression showing how glad she is to see him. "I wondered if you would come back," she said quietly, her eyes shyly sliding over him. Oh, she is breathtaking, every inch of her calling out to him, her voice and her body and her mouth taking a hold of him in a way he never imagined possible. The turmoil of the family he left behind seems as though it is a distant memory, and Meliodas allows himself to sink into her soothing presence.

"Elizabeth," he says slowly. "Thank you for seeing me again."

Her eyebrows arch in surprise. "You know my name?"

Meliodas chuckles. "I heard your sister the last time we met."

Nodding, her eyes narrow for a moment. "May I know yours as well?"

He clears his throat, hesitation biting at him; but what is the harm? "My name is Meliodas," he tells her, and when she whispers it back to him, it brings a thrill that sparks straight up his spine.

"Meliodas," she breathes again, and then smiles. "It is a beautiful name."

Nothing about the god had ever been described as _beautiful_ before. The idea of it is so strange, it gives him pause; but then she is walking towards him, and he does the same, closing the small gap between them. "You are not afraid this time," he comments.

The goddess ducks her head in a way he finds endearing. "I acted rashly before," she admits. Her eyes meet him and she rewards him with a smile. "You will forgive me?"

"Of course." Speaking to her is so easy, and for a moment he is amazed at the conflict inside of him, finding her both soothing and provoking. Since surrendering his heart, Meliodas had never _felt_ so very much. Being so out of practice makes him off balance.

They are now standing close to one another, and he finds himself examining the way her lips move as she speaks. "I've been thinking of you," Elizabeth admits.

He huffs a chuckle at her bluntness. "As I you, my goddess," breathes Meliodas.

"I feel as though I should be scared of you, but I am not," she says. "Is that very strange?"

"Not at all," he replies. "You have nothing at all to fear from me."

Elizabeth nods. Then her eyes trace over his face as she asks, "What do you want?"

The question heats his blood, making his pulse quicken. The truth is, he has no idea, beyond just seeing her again. So he covers up the uncertainty he feels by saying, "For now, I would have another kiss."

"A kiss?" she asks, and after a moment, her eyes widen in realization, a sweet blush forming on her cheeks. Her smile widens, and quickly she nods, and Meliodas steps closer.

This will not be a chaste moment, he decides; there will be no hesitancy on his part, no unnecessary caution. Meliodas is determined to explore what this goddess is doing to him, and giving in to this simple desire, the first one he has had in thousands of years, seems to be the right first step. In a moment his arms are around her waist, and he pulls her against him, a small, excited gasp escaping the girl. He gives her a moment to adjust, one hand remaining firm on her hip, his fingers curling around the lovely soft curve of her, as the other slides up her back, pulling her even closer so that their chests are pressed together. He can feel the softness of her against him, and Meliodas cannot help the drag of his gaze down her neck, over her chest, along the body of the girl he desires. Women had never held his interest beyond the way their souls had tasted; never before had the body of one enticed his senses.

Her timid hands land on his shoulders, and Meliodas looks up at her face. He digs his fingers gently into her, and then moves his mouth to cover hers, his eyes closing with a deep sigh as he finally tastes her again.

Elizabeth remains perfectly still in his arms, and with her silent permission he slants his mouth, kissing her firmly. He pulls on her lips, feeling the rush of her breath leaving her chest pressed against him when he bites gently on her plump lower one. But he is not finished; after tugging on her luscious flesh, Meliodas slips his tongue along the seam of her lips, pulling her even tighter when a sharp noise comes from the goddess.

Whether from surprise or from eagerness he cannot be sure, but Elizabeth opens her mouth at his touch, allowing his tongue to slip inside. Now the god gives a soft groan as he dips into the wet heat of her, slowly stroking her mouth, sliding against her tongue. Her fingers squeeze his shoulders, but the goddess does not pull away. Meliodas continues to kiss her slowly, not wanting to rush or frighten her or give up this thrilling moment too soon.

But then her hands are moving, sliding up around him, one splaying open at the base of his neck, the other gliding into his hair. The touch of her is almost too much, and when she begins to return the kiss, he can feel some kind of coiling inside of him, tensing and relaxing with each stroke of her lips and tongue and fingers. His body is overcome with a shudder of pleasure, and without even thinking he subconsciously grinds his hips forward, the stirring within him dropping low in his stomach.

The hand on her hip drags downwards, tracing over the curve of her rear and down her thigh, until finally he is skin to skin. Her leg is smooth and soft, and he pushes the hem of her dress up as the tips of his fingers dance along the outside of her thigh. Meliodas feels her shiver against him, and then to his disappointment she pulls her mouth away; but after taking a moment to catch her breath, Elizabeth presses her mouth back to his, kissing him eagerly.

Her innocence and earnestness and the soft hesitation of her explorations are intoxicating. Suddenly the god feels weakened, but instead of causing him anxiety, he wants to sink further into the spell she has on him. His hand on her back remains firm as he grabs her thigh with the other; then he drops to his knees, pulling the girl over him. She gives a squeak in surprise, her hand accidentally pulling on his hair sharply. But the pain of it is another long-forgotten sensation that stirs him, and in a moment he is sitting on the ground, Elizabeth straddling one of his legs, the other bent so he can lean his body against her.

Elizabeth is panting now, and he kisses her lips softly, her forehead grazing his. "Meliodas?" she whispers, and he immediately molds his mouth over hers again, the kiss turning deep and passionate. Will anything ever compare to the simple beauty of her curling around him, the sweet and cool taste of her, the little sighs of delight, the soft touches, the restless movements of her lips? Her arms go tight around his neck, and the goddess tilts her body forward, her back arching as her hips rock backward. The hand he has under her dress presses tightly on her thigh, but the one on her back drags around her side as he feels along her ribcage. He wants to touch every inch of her, but he is determined to go slowly, to follow her lead, so his caress stops below the soft swell of her breast.

Her hand comes up to cup his cheek, and gently she pulls away, her thumb stroking his jaw. "Meliodas," she moans, and he dips his face towards her, pressing against her neck. She shudders against him, shifting against his thigh. There is a drop of perspiration sliding down her skin, and without thought he flicks his tongue out to lap it up; this draws a deep groan from the girl, so he does it again, and again, until he is sucking and licking along her neck, tasting up and down her skin. "Oh yes," she breathes, dropping her head back. "This is just… just how I pictured it…"

Meliodas' lips curl in a smile as he kisses her shoulder. "What else have you pictured, Elizabeth?" he murmurs before nipping her throat.

The goddess curls a hand behind his head again before she sighs, "You, just you… loving me, just like this…"

Suddenly, Meliodas stills. An idea forms, and all at once his mind is pulsing as he drags himself out from this moment. "Do you want me to love you, Elizabeth?" he manages to ask, his voice biting like gravel.

She hesitates, the first time since he first kissed her, so quickly he presses his mouth against her ear. "Answer me," he murmurs, then laps at her earlobe.

"Yes!" Her voice is tight, almost a squeal. She pulls her ear from where it is now captured in his teeth, turning to look at him. Her face is flushed a beautiful rose, outlined in the bright moonlight, her eyes sparkling with something he recognizes in himself. "Will you love me, Meliodas?" she asks, with an earnestness he had not expected at all.

His plan has worked too well, and now he is struck dumb, his throat tightening as he tries to swallow. Meliodas had wanted her to desire him; he did not expect her to ask him such a thing. What's worse, he _wants_ to love her now, the desire for her so thick it fills every pore in his body, but it is impossible. How can a being with no heart ever love? She has awakened his desires, has stirred feelings inside him that Meliodas had not known for millennia, shown him what he thought was long ago lost. But love? It's impossible.

Yet Elizabeth looks at him so expectantly, so hopefully, that he decides to lie.

"Yes," he answers. "But first, you must make me a promise."

Her eyes go wide before she nods.

"You must promise to come with me," he says slowly. "You must return to my realm, and be my wife."

Elizabeth gasps, her muscles tightening as she freezes. "Your… realm?" she asks hesitantly. "What is that?"

"I am a king, Elizabeth," he murmurs, placing a soft kiss on the corner of her mouth. "You will live with me and be my queen. Then I can love you forever."

"Forever," she breathes. He can see her hesitation, but this is his moment to take what he wants, what he is determined to claim as his, and Meliodas will not squander it.

Quickly he molds his lips to her jaw, dragging his mouth along the delicate line. "Elizabeth," he says again, the words against her skin. He moves the hand on her thigh upwards, grasping her hip. "Promise me."

Her breath catches; then, she nods. "Say the words," he commands, and with wide eyes the goddess says, "I promise to go with you and be your queen, and you will love me forever."

It is done, and there is a moment that passes between them as the promise binds them together. Meliodas smiles at her, suddenly relieved that she has agreed; now all he has to do is take her with him, and she will be his. But before they go, he leans in to kiss her one more time.

It is softer, gentler than the fierce intensity of the previous ones. Elizabeth practically sags against him as their mouths brush against one another. He should take her now, before the other goddesses realize what has happened, but it is too sweet to simply sit in the grass and kiss her. So when he senses someone approaching, his body seizes, knowing he has made a mistake.

"Elizabeth? Are you here?" The goddess gasps, pulling away from him, but Meliodas' hands maintain their grip on her body. Slowly he stands, dragging her up against him, and quietly he says, "Come, Elizabeth."

"But…" She looks over shoulder towards the sounds between the trees, stepping back from his hold. Tugging on her hip, he tries to bring her close enough to allow his wings to flare out; but at that moment Margaret steps into sight, her cry of surprise breaking the silence of the night.

"Elizabeth!" Her voice is piercing with alarm. "Come away right now!"

"Margaret, I—" the goddess begins, but Meliodas interrupts, "This girl is mine now."

"Get back, demon," Margaret says. Her voice is low and threatening, but he can hear the tremble of fright, making him laugh to himself. "You have no idea who this girl is."

"She is _mine_ ," he snaps again. Sharply he pulls Elizabeth against him, and Meliodas drags his hand around her waist, sliding lower as he peers at the goddess who is watching the movement of his hand with growing horror. "She will be my wife. She has spoken a promise to me."

Margaret's eyes snap up, shaking her head. "No! No, that can't be." She looks at Elizabeth with pleading eyes. "Elizabeth, please, tell me he is lying."

"I… I did… I promised him." She looks over her shoulder at the god, her eyes wide with worry.

"What have you done?" Margaret whispers. The pain and disappointment are clear in her tone and expression, and Meliodas feels Elizabeth tense against him. Then Margaret's hands curl into fists, and her eyes are blazing when they return to him. A light begins to grow from her, the power all at once threatening to him. Meliodas does not fear for himself, but he can see the determination in this goddess to take his prize from him.

"Elizabeth is not for you," she says slowly. "She is a daughter of Baltra, a goddess of life. You cannot have her."

"But Margaret," Elizabeth pleads, "I want to go with him. This god has promised to love me."

Margaret lifts her chin, looking at the girl with undeniable scorn. "He is not just a god! He is a _demon_ , Elizabeth," she scolds. "He cannot love."

"A demon?" Elizabeth's voice sounds weak, and this time when she pulls away to look at him, Meliodas allows it. But his hand remains lightly on her hip, his gaze even as he meets hers. "You are a demon?"

"Yes," Margaret responds behind her. "He is a servant of Death, a prince of the Underworld."

Her stuttered breathing betrays Elizabeth's shock. They share a tense moment as they stare at one another, and then the goddess whispers, "You have no heart." She blinks as the realization becomes clear on her face. "You told me that and I—I didn't realize—"

It is true, he has no heart, but her words still seem to slice through his chest. "It makes no difference," Meliodas pronounces loudly. He looks over at Margaret in challenge. "She made a promise, she spoke the words. Even a goddess cannot go back on a promise made to a god."

"You promised to love me," Elizabeth replies, her words tight with sorrow.

Behind her Margaret gives a derisive laugh. "He cannot love," she calls. "How can he love if he has no heart?"

Meliodas glares at the goddess. Her words may be true but he suddenly wants to tear her apart just the same. He focuses on this flare of anger—another emotion long dormant inside of him—instead of risking to look up at the disappointment on Elizabeth's face from his deception. His power expands out, reaching into the long shadows of the night to gather strength. Meliodas will not allow such semantics to keep him from his goddess, so he prepares to leave—or if Margaret decides to press the issue, fight. The idea tugs at the side of his mouth; when was the last time the king of the Underworld met a challenge, even one as weak as this goddess?

Her powers increase as well, the white light of the goddess pressing out to meet his darkness. "I told you already," she says with a hard edge, "Elizabeth is _not for you_."

"I don't care what you say, _goddess_ ," he bites back. "She has sworn herself to me."

He reaches out to grab Elizabeth, but the girl stumbles away just as his powers touch her. He draws back in surprise, remembering how she had followed him earlier, how she had curled herself eagerly around him minutes before. "I won't go with you," she says to him.

It feels as though the air has been taken from his chest; gritting his teeth Meliodas growls, "What are you saying?"

"You said you would love me forever," she accuses, and to his horror a tear slips down her cheek. "But how can you with no heart?"

"Your deception is your undoing," Margaret says as Elizabeth walks away from him. "Her part of the bargain means nothing without yours."

A shout of rage erupts from the demon as Elizabeth meets her sister. "Elizabeth!" he shouts.

The goddess stops at his call, her back to him. "You are mine," he calls to her.

She turns her head, as if to look over her shoulder; he waits, tensed, his breathing heavy. But Elizabeth does not look back at him, and a moment later, she and her sister are gone.


	3. Part Three

**Part Three**

 _Where we go when he closes my eyes  
_ _and under what country:  
_ _some blue darkness, farther than hell;  
_ _a landscape of absence and root and stone.  
_ _There are no bodies here,  
_ _we dream shapeless dreams_ —  
 _a constant, cloudless storm._

— _Cecelia Wolooh_

The Underworld shakes with the king's rage. The souls that come to meet his judgment tremble at his wrath, and even those in Purgatory feel something stirring through their home, a strange unease settling on them for the first time in eternity. Those who reside in Tartarus feel a deepening to their anguish, a cold dread that makes them wail with renewed torment.

Most disturbed, however, are the king's two brothers. Since the day Meliodas surrendered his heart, he has been callous, unemotional, dispassionate in his dealings in his kingdom. What could have happened to him to bring such a violent change? After days of unsettled turmoil in the Underworld, the two decide to approach the king.

Meliodas is where he always is, brooding in his throne. His fingers are clenched tightly on the arms of the chair, his head bowed in deep thought, the blonde hair covering black eyes. The king feels his brothers approaching, and he sighs, not wanting to speak to them. But he knows why they are there, and that they will not be dissuaded, so before either can speak he raises his eyes. "What is it now?" he says slowly.

"Your Grace," Zeldris says tightly. "You are obviously disturbed. Every inch of the Underworld can feel your wrath these past few days."

"Is there something you want?" Estarossa asks, a small smile touching his face as he looks at him curiously. "Something you need?"

Zeldris shoots him a warning look. "Command us," the younger says. "We will take whatever it is you desire."

There is a moment of silence that hangs heavily. Then Meliodas begins to laugh. Both demons startle at the sound, exchanging an uneasy glance. Here is another sound that had not been heard in an age, another unusual behavior for their king. The laugh is deep in his chest, devoid of any real humor; they watch as he shakes his head with it, the discomfort growing.

"What I want?" the king finally asks, the laughter dying. "What I want is my _wife_."

The two demons stare at him in shock. "Your wife?" Estarossa finally says. "You have no wife."

"I should have one," Meliodas bites out. "I want a queen, and I have _claimed_ one. She spoke a promise to me, but the goddesses are keeping her from me."

He raises his eyes to examine the two demons. Zeldris simply looks puzzled, his face lined with doubt. But Estarossa has a smirk forming on his face, his eyes going cold. "If the goddesses have something that belongs to the king," he says, "then it is our privilege to fetch it for you."

Meliodas pauses. He had thought about such a thing himself, simply going to the surface and taking Elizabeth for his own. Dragging her, if he had to, in fact. But once he had her, then what? He could not keep her there. If what Margaret had said was true, and they really were the daughters of Baltra, there could be trouble; he was a powerful enough god to force him to relent.

Of course, Elizabeth's promise to him should have been enough; but without being able to love her, the oath was not lawful.

 _No matter_ , he decides. His brothers are right, his raging is getting old, and in order for him to continue the work that is his duty as king he must put this entire thing behind him. The only way to do that is to bring Elizabeth to his realm and force her to promise herself to him again. It should be easy; the girl was innocent enough, and easily manipulated. Meliodas feels a bit strange at the idea, but ignores the sensation. He is a king in need of a queen, and Elizabeth is his chosen one. That is all that matters.

Meliodas rises from his throne and the demons give a respectful bow. "Come with me if you'd like," he says. "I am going to fetch the girl."

Both of the demons agree to accompany him, and together they leave the Underworld.

* * *

Britannia is in the midst of a festival. The time of harvest is approaching, so the married women leave their homes and go back into nature, to give their thanks for the blessings of the year. Wives and mothers leave their households, trusting the care of the children to their husbands for two days. During these two days the women celebrate, preparing their bodies for fertility through the brief abstinence, and offering praises to the gods for the ability to bring life. No men are present, and are in fact forbidden to even come near the place where the women gather.

All of the goddesses are there, tending to the women, celebrating with them. The magic of the goddesses keep them safe as they perform the familiar rituals. It is the most important festival for the goddesses of life, one that comes every year so they can renew their own magic and reinvest it into the earth.

This year, however, Elizabeth is distracted. She tends to a young woman newly married, excitedly chatting with another about her wedding not two weeks ago; this is her first time attending the festival. Elizabeth can sense that the spark of life has already kindled inside of her womb, but the girl is still unaware, still flushed with the excitement of her new life. Tiredly the goddess smiles as she weaves flowers in her hair, lazily sending her healing powers over her to allow this time of her pregnancy to be free of illness.

It is difficult to share in the girl's excitement, however. Typically Elizabeth loves the festival, enjoys doting on the women who are her charges, but there is more pressing matters on her mind. Namely, the near betrayal of the god—no, _demon_ —who tried to take her through deception. She was so embarrassed by her own foolishness, and then had to suffer reprimands from both her sisters _and_ her father, her humiliation complete.

The worst of it all is that Elizabeth still thinks of him, his image rising unbidden in her mind. She had not realized how much she had become fascinated by Meliodas until she knew she would never see him again. Goddesses of life must remain chaste and pure in order to be powerful enough to maintain Britannia; she heard this again and again from her father and the others. She had already broken enough rules by meeting with him, by kissing him and touching him and allowing him to hold her body against his. There would _not_ be another chance for forgiveness for such indiscretions.

But how could she help herself? Meliodas had invaded her life, had shown her something that she did not even knew existed. She can still feel his lips on her, his hands on her, and she _wants_ him so badly she is afraid. Elizabeth has not forgiven him for his duplicity—may never forgive him, in fact—but that does nothing to dampen the need that stirs deep inside of her or the fire that tingles along her skin as she thinks of the way the god looked at her.

It is mid-afternoon, and many of the women are napping, tired from the rituals of the day and preparing for the feast that evening. Her own charge is fast asleep, so Elizabeth wanders a bit, looking for the comfort that only solitude can bring. Margaret has warned her against wandering off, but Elizabeth needs just a moment to herself.

She wanders into a clearing among the trees, the tall trunks forming a circle around her. Here the forest is quiet, no birds or squirrels making a sound, only the breeze on her skin. The grass bends at her feet, and Elizabeth simply stands, her eyes closed and her face tilted up to the sun. She breathes in the scent of the day, a calm sliding over her.

Her eyes open when she realizes there are tears sliding down her cheeks. Her chest tightens a moment later. "Meliodas," she whispers. Why does this hurt? Will she ever be healed from what might have been?

Something catches in her hair, then caresses her cheek; and a moment later she is crushed against a hard body, hot and firm lips on her own, swallowing her cries of surprise. The goddess' eyes fly open to see his dark ones looking back at her. With a yelp she jerks away, but his hands are on her hips, pulling her back to him, his mouth now biting her neck, the sensation a heavenly torture.

"Elizabeth," he growls, his hands roaming her body, "did you think you could be rid of me so easily?"

"What are you doing here?" she asks, her voice high and tight and trembling.

"You made a promise to me, goddess," replies Meliodas. His mouth slides up to place a kiss behind her ear, and the feel of his lips there sends a shiver of pleasure through the goddess. "I want you, Elizabeth," he whispers.

She feels weak, her hands gripping his arms as tightly as she can to stay upright as he softly kisses her neck. His mouth is setting her body on fire, and she is suddenly embarrassed by just how _fast_ he has an affect on her. Her father's lecture on _controlling oneself_ and _the duty of goddesses_ echoes inside of her as the demon's mouth travels back to her own, and as she begins to return his hungry kiss a war erupts inside of her.

But Meliodas is winning, and a moment later she feels the hard bark of a tree against her back. Strong hands lift her legs, pulling them around him, and Elizabeth clings to his neck as they kiss. It is difficult to even catch a breath, he is overwhelming her so completely, and all thoughts of her father or her sisters or the duty she must perform, that she should be performing _this very instant_ , start to vanish, replaced by his hands and mouth and the throbbing that has begun inside of her. It is sheer lunacy for a goddess of life to be behaving this way, to give in to such base desires in the middle of the festival, no less… but Elizabeth will soon be beyond caring.

Yet slowly, even as his tongue strokes her mouth and his hands graze the underside of her breast, reason is trying to claw its way back to her. Finally she whimpers his name, and to her relief the demon pauses, the second's hesitation enough for her to turn her face away from his unsatiated kisses. "Meliodas, please stop," she whispers, his face burying into her hair. "Please, I—I can't—goddesses cannot—it's forbidden—"

She feels him growl against her, sending an absolutely primitive shiver through her body. Her mind spins as Elizabeth wonders what she is even trying to say, why she is even fighting this. Then he says, "When you are queen of _my_ kingdom, you can do whatever you please."

Elizabeth gives a little gasp, and slowly Meliodas raises his head, the two staring at one another, their faces only an inch apart. "You can have whatever you desire," he says softly. "There is nothing that would be denied from my queen."

The words lay on her mind like a blanket, covering her reason. She stammers a bit as her hands slide into his hair on their own. The goddess suddenly wishes he would step back and give her a moment to breathe, just one moment, to get her thoughts in order and allow her pounding heart to calm. But then she realizes this is just what he wants, and that seems to shake the cobwebs from her mind.

"I can't," she says, almost sadly.

Meliodas looks at her silently, his eyes moving back and forth between her two blue ones. Gradually she releases the grip she has on him, preparing herself for the moment that he lets her go; but to her shock, he says instead, "No." Her eyes widen, and Meliodas continues, "You belong to me." Then he lifts her, hoisting her over his shoulder, and takes off, heading into the air and carrying her to the Underworld.

* * *

The girl had been nearly hysterical by the time they reached his kingdom, so Meliodas used his power to put her into a deep sleep. Then the question became what to _do_ with her. Other than the throne room, there is little more in his realm. There is the entryway that leads to the hall where the souls wait for judgment, and a handful of rooms that his brothers use for whatever they wish; other than that, the rest is for Purgatory and Tartarus.

The Underworld, however, is by his own design, and the power of the king can actually create in this place of death. So he sets about creating a proper castle, with a banquet room and sitting rooms and a lavish bath attached to an even more lavish bedroom. Inside his newly made chambers is a large, plush four-poster bed, and it is there that he deposits the goddess. He knows she will sleep several more hours, so he quickly pulls the elegant blankets over her, resting her head on top of an array of lush pillows.

There is a chair in the room, as lavish as the rest, and it is on this that he sits as he watches the girl. Meliodas rests his elbows on his thighs, leaning forward to let out a slow breath between his hands. The first step of his plan is complete; Elizabeth is here with him. No soul can escape the Underworld without the aid of himself or his brothers, so he does not fear her escape. But eventually, and probably sooner rather than later, the goddesses will demand her return, more than likely dragging whatever higher ranked gods they can find to listen to their cause. He will be painted as a thief and a plunderer, and they will seek justice for his crime.

Unless, of course, Elizabeth wants to stay. If she loves him and agrees to be his own, then the goddesses will give up their objective, he is sure of it. They must make a bond of magic, a _real_ bond, a promise that cannot be broken by any being other than themselves.

Elizabeth sighs in her sleep, her head rolling to the side, and the king lifts his eyes to her form. Yes, he must convince her to stay in the short time he will have with her. If he can do that, then nothing will take his goddess from him again.

After a short while, he realizes that the other two have not returned. He has not sensed their energies returning to the Underworld, and he frowns in concern. After checking Elizabeth's breathing, which assures him he still has plenty of time, Meliodas heads back to the throne room, ready to look into the ceiling and find the demons. But just as he is about to begin his brothers enter, their eyes glittering and both wearing grins.

"Your Grace!" Estarossa says cheerfully as they both make their bows. "You have been busy since your return. We had no idea you were planning to make such improvements to our home."

"Had we known you were redecorating, we would have come back sooner," Zeldris adds.

Meliodas grits his teeth in agitation, their greetings too _familiar_ for his taste. "Where were you?" he barks at them. "There is no reason for you to have been gone that long!"

The demons exchange a glance before Zeldris says, "Does His Grace not recall? You told us to make sure the goddesses stayed out of your way."

"I had Elizabeth back here an hour ago," Meliodas mutters. "What were you doing all this time?"

There is a pause, and then Estarossa answers, "Simply having a look at the goddesses ourselves. They are such lovely creatures."

The king narrows his eyes. "What did you do?"

"Nothing to get worked up over, Sire," Zeldris responds, his smile disappearing as he looks coldly to the king. "The goddesses wanted to fight, but we put a stop to that quickly. They must learn their place is beneath gods such as ourselves."

"Did you kill them?" shouts Meliodas, startling the two. "You will bring the wrath of _all_ the gods down on us!"

"We did not kill them!" Estarossa responds, his voice as harsh as he dared. "Do you take us for fools? We merely warned them of what would happen if they stole from our king again."

Zeldris' mouth twists with a smirk. "We did feast on one or two of the women. Those with child were especially delicious."

"Get out of my sight." The king turns in clear dismissal and returns to his throne, glowering at the room that is now, thankfully, empty. He looks into the ceiling and sees the goddesses frantic, probably searching for Elizabeth. He had hoped to bide time before they realized she was gone; now, because of the idiotic choices of his two brothers, Meliodas has less time than he had originally thought.


	4. Part Four

**Part Four**

 _you took me down, underneath, and I was  
_ _abducted by your charm unwillingly.  
_ _My mother will be angry and ashamed;  
_ _Beauty has a hideous consequence  
_ _oh, how I died (the flowers in my heart)  
_ _wilted and cried and wept for home above  
_ _but I am forced to stay_

— _Amanda Katherine Ricketson_

Elizabeth opens her eyes, and the first thing she notices is how very dark everything is. There is no moonlight, no stars, only one flickering lamp a few feet away. The next thing she notices is how strange the moss feels against her skin, how her pillow smells different than fresh clover. Her head is heavy, as if she had too much wine, and sluggishly she sits up, closing her eyes briefly against a wave of dizziness.

As soon as the goddess is upright, she realizes where she is, remembering what happened. Elizabeth is paralyzed with fear, her eyes scanning the darkness for the demon that brought her here in a flurry of wind and dark feathers.

But after a few minutes, her breath is even and she knows for sure she is alone. Silently she slips from the bed, the silk sheets feeling strangely tantalizing against her legs. Her bare feet meet a plush carpet, and tentatively she stands. She can just make out the shapes of the furniture in the room, and Elizabeth carefully picks her way towards the door.

There is not a sound _anywhere_ , which she finds the most disturbing. Elizabeth is used to the other girls, and to the sound of birds or the breeze. Finally she comes to the other end of the room, her hands in front of her in the dark, and her fingertips brush against a hard surface. Eagerly she presses her hands against the smooth wood of the door, sliding over it until one clasps around a metal doorknob.

When she opens the door, it leads to a dimly lit hallway. The goddess peeks around, trying to see if there is anyone nearby, but of course it is empty. There is a moment of hesitation before she steps into the hallway, the carpet giving way to cold stone.

Slowly she makes her way through the corridor, looking around at the empty space lit with only a handful of lamps lining the length. Meliodas had told her that he was a king; if it is true, where are the lavish decorations, the signs of wealth and power? There are no pictures, no statues, no servants, nothing. The palace seems empty of life.

But that makes sense, doesn't it? This is the Underworld.

Elizabeth stops, afraid now. She feels her heart sinking in terror, her being as a goddess of life feeling revulsion at the idea. Is this where the souls go when they die? Suddenly her feet are moving, wanting to find a way out. She imagines the tortures that must be happening, the agony that death brings. It is awful to think that any creature must come to such a place.

She stumbles into a new room. This one is lit by a grand chandelier, hanging from the high ceiling. Candlelight flickers on the long wooden table, which despite the immense length has only two ornate chairs, one on each end. Elizabeth approaches the table cautiously, and is surprised to see an intricate carving on the table's surface. Without thinking she runs her hand along the grain of the wood, dipping into the curving pattern.

This seems more like the table a king would have, but Elizabeth wonders again about there being only two chairs. Where is the seating for the elaborate banquets, the fancy parties? Thinking of such things makes her stomach growl suddenly, and she closes her eyes as she places her hands on her stomach.

For the first time she wonders how long she was asleep, how many hours or even days she has gone without food or drink. Her mouth goes dry as she imagines cool water or warm spiced wine, some fresh bread and cheese and berries to fill her stomach. She can almost smell the cinnamon in the wine and the scent of the warm baked bread, see the golden butter and the crisp strawberries.

So when she opens her eyes and finds the table now spread with an incredible amount of food, at first she believes she is still dreaming. Then she realizes the smells are real, and her eyes go wide at the sight. Piles of bread and rolls, plates of dozens of different cheeses, heaping bowls of fruit are hers for the taking. Her mouth opens in surprise, her stomach growling fiercely in expectation as she steps forward. There is a plate with utensils sitting at the place directly in front of her, the items made of pure gold and glistening in the flickering moonlight. A large pitcher of water sits next to the place setting, the condensation dripping slowly down the side, and next to that a crystal decanter of dark red liquid with a large gold-trimmed goblet.

Elizabeth steps forward eagerly, reaching out for the closest bowl of fruit. Eagerly she picks up a pear, the color a beautiful olive green and the skin firm and plump to the touch. With a sigh she brings it to her mouth… but something makes her pause, a warning signalling in her mind.

Where did this come from? She is certain the table had been empty moments ago.

Slowly, regretfully, she places the pear back into the bowl. There is still too much uncertainty in this place, and Elizabeth is afraid of what might happen to her if she eats the enchanted food.

With a last glance at the enticing display, the goddess makes her way through the room, picking up her pace as she spies another door. How many rooms are in the palace? She wonders if she will spend hours going from one to the next, each one strangely interconnected.

This door leads to an even larger room, the ceilings higher, the shadows deeper. It closes behind her with a startling bang, and when she looks she is alarmed to see that it has disappeared into the wall. With no choice but to go on, she steps into the light, blinking a bit as she looks around.

On one end of the grand hall is a set of huge doors, the carvings strange and intricate, with wrought iron weaved throughout. The shapes in the doors are both strange and familiar, making Elizabeth feel ashamed and excited at the same time. She is conflicted, wanting to move closer for a better look while at the same time fearing to get any closer. Finally she wrenches her eyes away, a cold shiver going through her when she breaks free of her own gaze.

On the other side is a dais, and on that is what must be the king's throne. It is cut into a giant slab of dark gray stone, almost black, the arms jutting out into what looks like claws, the back framing spikes that look sharper than any spear. Her mouth is open in wonder as she approaches, not bothering to check if there is anyone else in the room. Her footsteps are flat and dull as she walks closer and closer, quietly climbing the steps to stand in awe before the throne.

Elizabeth reaches out a trembling hand, flinching slightly when her fingers touch the terrible claw that curls over the end of the chair's arm. She lets out a shaking breath while sliding her hand over the smooth stone and takes another step closer. Her eyes travel over the frightening design, but somehow Elizabeth is not afraid. It's as if she is seeing something that she remembers from a dream, or a dream within a dream.

Quickly she glances around, and once confirming she is alone, turns and sits on the throne before losing her nerve. Instantly she regrets her rash decision, feeling as though she has touched something sacred, had violated some vow somehow. A slowly coursing dread fills her mind, and yet… Elizabeth is drawn towards it as well. Goddesses do not desire power or covet wealth, their existence only for serving and giving life. But this feels… right. She likes the feeling of strength the throne gives her. It is just as thrilling as her time with Meliodas, even though it feels darker, and more dangerous.

She goes to stand, but then notices something strange. On either side of her is now a door, identical to each other, one leading to the left and the other to the right. The goddess had not noticed them before, but now she wonders if one or both of them could be a way out.

Right or left? She bites her lower lip as she tries to decide.

Cautiously Elizabeth steps down the dais, her head turning slowly between her two options. Finally she closes her eyes and spins in a circle, leaving the decision to fate; when she opens her eyes again, she is facing the left. She smiles and bites her lip as she walks towards the door; but as she reaches to push on the large handle, the sound of a clearing throat behind her makes her jump straight into the air.

The goddess spins around to find a god watching her. He stands at the bottom of the dais, his arms folded, his head tilted just slightly. He looks similar to Meliodas, their facial features resembling one another, their hair both laying in thick, messy layers on his head; but the color is silver, like hers, his eyes darker, chin dusted with hair. But the biggest difference is the massive size of him; where Meliodas is lean and just barely comes up to her full height, this one is more than a head taller, broad with muscular arms and legs.

"Are you certain you want to go that way?" he says, and his voice reminds Elizabeth of honey: sweet, tempting, slowly dripping over her.

"I…" Elizabeth blinks, unable to look away from the handsome stranger. He steps towards her, and instinctively she steps backwards.

"What are you looking for?" he asks, his voice kind.

The goddess shakes her head. "I don't know," she admits. "The way out, I suppose." She bites her lower lip for a moment before asking, "Do you know the way?"

His eyes are trained on her mouth, and Elizabeth presses her lips together self-consciously. Then his gaze slides up her face, making her cheeks flare with heat. "I do," he answers. "But it's not that way."

"Oh," she says, glancing over her shoulder. "Which… way should I go?"

"If you go that way," the man continues, "you'll only get lost. It's a vast world beyond that door. Many souls wander there."

"Souls?" Elizabeth's voice is high and tight as her eyes widen. Again she looks over her shoulder, examining the ordinary door. Is this where the dead are kept? Her own heart sinks at the idea, and suddenly she feels like she _must_ go in, give comfort and perhaps life to those who lay beyond, while at the same time her body is recoiling in fear and disgust.

"Of course," he says, and she turns back to look at him, "you could go through the other door." He lifts a hand to gesture towards it while Elizabeth follows with her eyes.

Her hands clasp nervously. "What is behind that door?" she asks in a small voice.

The stranger smiles at her warmly. "It's where I reside. I do my work in that room."

"Your… work?" Elizabeth frowns as she examines the stranger closely. "Who are you?"

He grins broadly, tilting his head. "I am Estarossa, the brother of King Meliodas. He is the lord of this realm."

"You're Meliodas' brother?" Suddenly her heart is beating fast, too fast, at the idea. Surely his own brother would not steer her wrong. He even nodded at her respectfully, and spoke of his brother almost fondly and with pride. But Meliodas had lied to her about being a demon… what if this one is a demon as well? Can she trust him?

Estarossa takes another step towards her as she thinks. "I can see your hesitation, and I don't blame you. After all, you don't know me. I could be lying to you."

"No, no, it's not that, I…" Elizabeth swallows. "Of course I trust you, if you are the king's brother."

She offers a polite smile and continues, "My name is Elizabeth."

He chuckles, the sound sending a shudder through her. "Yes, I know all about you, Elizabeth."

What did _that_ mean? All at once she decides not to trust him at all, and quickly she looks around the room. "Have you seen Meliodas?" she asks.

"I have not," admits Estarossa sadly. "But perhaps he is behind the door. After all, our other brother lives there as well. They could be together."

Nervously she looks over at the door, Estarossa gesturing to it once more. Perhaps she should…? It does seem _reasonable_ , she supposes, that Meliodas could be there. Elizabeth reaches her hand out for the handle, and the same warning that had stopped her from eating at the feast pulses nervously in her mind. Yet she feels Estarossa's eyes on her, and knows there is no way to stop herself this time.

Her hand closes around the handle, the metal cold as ice in her grip. A shiver goes through her from the dark energy that immediately assaults her senses. Tears spring to her eyes; she does not _want_ to enter this room, but how can she not? What if Meliodas lies just behind it? She does not know if she hopes to find him, or hopes to never find him in such a place.

Steeling her courage, Elizabeth sucks in a breath and pushes. But just as the door moves an inch, a force slams it back shut, knocking her away with such vehemence that she stumbles, catching herself on the steps of the dais behind her. The goddess sinks to her knees, bruises now forming where she had crashed against the stone, and she looks up in alarm to see what had stopped her.

"What are you doing?" Meliodas hisses at her. "Do not _ever_ go into that room. Do you understand?" Elizabeth stares back at him, numb. He grits his jaw and roars, "Do you _understand_?!"

"Yes!" she cries. One hand flies to her chest, pressing against her rapidly beating heart. "I'm sorry, I didn't—I didn't know—"

"Do not _ever_ go into a room without my permission." His voice is threatening, so unlike the soft velvet when he had held her and kissed her days ago. Elizabeth shivers under the weight of his stare as he glares at her. "What were you even thinking? Do goddesses have no sense?"

Pushing herself to stand, Elizabeth responds tightly, "I didn't know! Your brother told me you were there. Tell him—" Quickly she looks around, searching for his brother to confirm her story, but they are alone in the hall. Her skin blushes with embarrassment as she realizes how very foolish she sounds. "He _was_ here," she says, almost a whisper.

"I should have known one of them would appear," the king mutters. She looks up at him hopefully, but his hands are on his hips and his expression is still of deep disapproval. "You would do well to avoid them, too," he warns.

The goddess folds her arms. "Is there anywhere I _can_ be?" she asks, trying to make her annoyance clear; yet to her chagrin, his mouth twists into an ironic smile. "Yes, of course," he says. The demon grabs her hand and pulls her behind him, leading her back the way she came.

Meliodas pushes open the door to the bedchamber and ushers Elizabeth inside. "Here," he says firmly, shutting the door behind them. "You can stay in here, you will be safe." He walks to the middle of the room gesturing around. "There is a closet there, you can find clothes and things you may want. Beyond that door," here he gestures with his head, "there is a washroom. If there is anything else you need, then—"

He stops as he catches sight of her wide eyes on him. He does know what he expected, but the surprise on her face is not at all what he had imagined. "What is it?" he asks.

"Where… is this place?" she asks softly.

His eyes slide down to where her hands twist nervously. "This is my kingdom. The Underworld." Elizabeth sucks in an audible breath, and he quickly goes on, "You are in my realm, under my protection, so you have nothing to truly fear. But these rooms here are for you."

"For me?" she echoes, and Meliodas nods. "This is our bedchamber."

"Our…" The goddess' voice fades into a whisper, and then suddenly she shakes herself, stepping towards him. "I can't stay here."

Frowning, Meliodas says darkly, "And why not?"

Elizabeth looks at him pleadingly, her eyes blinking rapidly. "You have to bring me back to Britannia. My father, my sisters… they must be so worried! How long have I been here? I can't stay in the Underworld!"

His chest twists when he hears the way her voice goes tight with fear, but he grits his teeth in annoyance. "You promised to come with me. You _wanted_ to come with me. Or don't you remember?" Meliodas slowly walks towards her, and the goddess straightens, her body tense. "Do all goddesses go back on their promises? Or only false ones such as you?"

Reaching her now, his hand shoots out to grab hers. Meliodas tugs her sharply forward, and with a shout she crashes against him. His other hand fists in her hair, and at once he pulls her mouth onto his so he can kiss her possessively. He knows inside that this is _wrong_ , that taking Elizabeth this way is not only counterproductive to his goals but also hurtful to his goddess. But Meliodas cannot help himself, tilting his head to deepen the kiss, pushing his tongue past the moaning protest. She has made him feel so much in the past weeks that it all boils over now into a sudden fury.

He releases her when they are both breathless, the goddess sagging against him. Her cheeks are wet with tears, and now the fury is turned in on himself. With a growl he lifts her and carries her to the bed, depositing her gently onto the mattress. Elizabeth allows him to do so, but she refuses to look at him, her shoulders shaking a bit as she holds back her quiet sobbing. For a long, uncomfortable moment, Meliodas simply stares at her, at a loss of what to say or do; finally he says, "You will be happy here, Elizabeth."

"Please," she whispers. "Please, just let me—"

"I will see you at dinner," he announces sharply, wanting to get away from the weeping girl as fast as possible. "You have one hour." Then Meliodas turns without another word and walks quickly from the room, pulling the door shut with a bang.

For a moment, the king must gather himself together, a swarm of emotions making his arms shake. This is all wrong, this is _not_ how this is supposed to go; he must woo her and win her, just as he had in the forest. His eyes close as he imagines the way they had sat in the grass kissing, entangled around one another, the goddess breathless as she whispered her vow to him. She had wanted him then. Wanted his love then.

 _This is Estarossa's fault_ , Meliodas thinks to himself, and furiously he sets off to find him. The demon of Love is at work in his own domain, but the king does not hesitate to grab him by the neck and hurl him to the ground, his weapon against his throat and drawing a thin red line across his skin in an instant. "You dare," Meliodas breathes, "to insult your king."

Estarossa knows better than to argue the quiet rage in his brother, so he remains still until Meliodas eases the blade enough to allow him to speak. "I would never, Your Grace," he rasps.

"That girl is my queen," answers Melidas coldly. "She is _your_ queen. Any slight against her is a slight against me."

His mouth knotted tightly, Estarossa nods. With another warning look, the king allows him up; but before he can leave his brother snaps at him, "You should not have stopped me, Your Grace. Allow me to bring the queen here, and you can know for sure her loyalty to you."

"You will _not_ —" Meliodas begins, but Estarossa shouts, "The girl has ensnared you! Look at you, going to the surface, chasing a goddess? You ignore your duties to fantasize about a goddess of _life_. Are you so under her spell that you cannot even see your own dereliction?"

"Enough," Meliodas says. His eyes are dark and threatening as he looks at his brother. "You've said your peace. Another word, ever again, and I will cut you in two." With that he leaves Tartarus, returning to his own throne to contemplate his next move.

* * *

An hour later, Meliodas sits at the table, waiting for Elizabeth. His elbows lean on the wood, his fingers steepled, as he watches the door. Each tick of each moment makes his stomach sink a little deeper. Is this how every king feels as he waits for his queen? Or is it only because he has no heart that he feels this way?

The question must remain unanswered because the door finally opens, and in walks the goddess. He scrambles to stand, watching as she cautiously approaches. Quickly Meliodas walks around the table, going to meet her, but frowns when he sees that she still has on the simple white chiton that she was wearing when he brought her to his realm. When he had designed the chambers for her, he had made sure the closets were filled with gowns of all styles, colors, the most luxurious fabrics, the most exquisite designs. "Was there not one dress among all of them you did not find pleasing?"

Elizabeth gasps, and Meliodas pauses mid-stride, realizing he has spoken aloud. "I didn't… realize…" She looks down with reddening cheeks to her clothes, smoothing the dress that flows against her body, dusting against her bare feet. The king clears his throat and takes her hand instead of answering, gesturing towards her seat.

He helps her into her chair, pushing it in for her, and then takes his own place at the other end. The table is long, _too_ long, and now he curses himself for designing such a ridiculous thing. Elizabeth's eyes are down, trained on the gilded place setting, her hands folded neatly in her lap. He watches her silently, and for several uncomfortable moments neither speak.

"Are you hungry?" he asks, his voice echoing in the room.

The goddess chews on her lower lip. "Yes," she says quietly.

Meliodas nods, and at once the table is laden with a spread fitting for the king of the Underworld. There are platters of meat, vegetables, bread, soft cream and honey, crisp fruits and bitter chocolates. He pours himself a goblet of wine and pulls a serving of bread and pork onto his plate; but when he looks up, he sees the goddess has not moved. "You may eat," he says, confused.

Elizabeth finally looks up to meet his gaze. "I cannot," she answers simply.

Frowning, the king gestures to the table. "Doesn't any of this suit you either?" His impatience with her seeps into his voice. First the clothes, now the food… is this goddess pleased by anything? With a bit of a huff, Meliodas decides to use another approach. "Whatever you want, you may ask for and it will appear."

Her brows raise slightly, and he leans eagerly forward. "Anything you desire, Elizabeth, I can give to you in my own realm. All of this belongs to me."

"Even me?" she asks.

Her words strike him hard. "Yes, Elizabeth," he finally answers. "Even you."

The goddess looks away, turning her face to the side. "Then I will not eat," responds Elizabeth. "I will not be tied to this place, unable to leave one day."

"You will not be leaving," Meliodas says firmly. The matter settled, he picks up his utensils and begins eating, not looking up at the goddess. The lord of the Underworld does not need to eat regularly as humans do, but he enjoys the food thoroughly, refilling his plate with more, draining his cup several times. Elizabeth does not move the entire meal, her eyes remaining trained to the side as he ignores her. A few times he spies her from the corner of his eye sneaking a glance up at him, but before he can look back she is back to staring at the wall.

When his own hunger is sated, Meliodas finally sets down his knife and fork, folding his napkin and placing it on the table. He stares down the table at the goddess, unamused by her stubbornness. "You are finished then?" he asks sarcastically, and when Elizabeth's only response is to briefly close her eyes, the food on the table disappears with a swipe of his hand.

"We will have many more meals together, Elizabeth," he says, pressing his hands on the table. "You may as well enjoy what I have to offer."

At that she turns her face towards him so sharply he is taken aback. "What have you to offer me?" she asks.

The question makes him a bit uneasy, but Meliodas answers, "I told you before. You may have whatever you desire."

"I desire the sun," she answers. "I desire the fresh air, the wind on my face, the grass beneath my feet. I desire the moon and the stars."

"The moon and the stars? Is that all?" He is mocking her, laughing under his breath, and Elizabeth blushes at the sound. "You goddesses are an interesting bunch certainly."

"Why do you have no heart?" she asks suddenly. His shoulders stiffen a bit as she meets his eyes with a slowly evolving confidence.

"I was no longer in need of a heart," he finally decides to answer. Now it is his turn to look away, and the goddess' turn to lean forward. "But why?" she asks. "Did you give it away? Or is it lost?"

"Enough," Meliodas snaps. "My heart is no business of yours."

The goddess sits up a bit straighter. "I believe it should be. After all, you promised to love me. My sister said that love is giving your heart to someone else."

"Your sister said that, did she?" he scoffs. "Is she the goddess of love?" Elizabeth shakes her head, and suddenly all of the emotions that Meliodas had been experiencing and working to keep in check begin to pulse inside of him, waiting to be unleashed. He has no heart, he is not supposed to be _feeling anything_ , and yet here he sits, angry and amused and confused and anxious and hurt all at the same time. It is proving too much for the demon who has not experienced any true feelings for several millennia, and he slowly stands, glaring at the goddess who has set him on this path.

"Do you want to know, Elizabeth?" he asks, his voice dark and dangerous. "Are you so naive you do not know what the humans truly call love?"

He is stalking towards her as if she is his prey, and yet there is no more of a fitting description in how he feels about the girl who now stares at him with wide eyes. "Of course you are," he answers to himself. "You did not know what a kiss was, did you?"

"Meliodas?" she says gently, and for a moment, her voice cuts through the growing cloud in his mind. He stands before her now, her blue eyes looking up at him expectantly, curiously, but without fear. At once he is breathless with her grace and poise, someone so innocent with the daring to meet the lord of death in the eye and not shrivel in terror. The twisting in his chest tightens almost painfully, and he grabs hold of her, yanking her from her seat and pushing her back onto the table.

Elizabeth gives a yelp of surprise, but then she is silenced as his mouth covers hers. The king crawls over her, trapping her underneath him, using his weight to pin her down on the table. Their kiss is hot and unforgiving, his bubbling emotions now boiling over into the way he licks and bites her, the way he rubs his body on hers.

"Meliodas!" she gasps when he lets go of her mouth. He bites her neck, bringing a cry from the goddess, his tongue wild and searing against her skin as he tastes her throat and forces her head to tilt backwards. Her hands are on his chest, alternating between pushing him away and pulling him closer, the way her fingers dig into him making him shudder.

The taste of her skin is sweet and cool, something he knows he will never live without. He wants more, _he needs more_ , and he ignores her moans as he pulls up her dress. Her legs are bare beneath his roaming hands that slide along her creamy skin, tracing the outline of her slim thighs. The hated chiton is now bunched at her hips, and Meliodas kneels up, grasping her by the calves and pushing her legs apart.

"Meliodas, please!" she cries out, and the god looks up. Elizabeth is panting and flushed beneath him, her eyes wild.

"This is what you wanted, isn't it, Elizabeth?" he growls. His hands slide down the back of her trembling legs, finally resting underneath her backside, gripping her hard. "You wanted to be loved."

The lie is bitter tasting in his mouth, and the wince on her face makes him cringe. "You cannot love," she whimpers.

His breathing stills, his hands and movements still, the goddess' words knocking the very air from his body. Meliodas looks down at her neck, a small mark now forming from his heavy kiss, and the reality of her beneath him and the truth she has uttered rends him in half. Shakily Meliodas climbs from on top of her, sliding to his feet on the floor, and he steps back, knocking over the chair next to him.

Slowly Elizabeth sits up, her hair mussed, her lips swollen, her skin glowing, and Meliodas wants nothing more than to finish what he had started. But now he feels the true emptiness that having no heart has given him. Elizabeth cannot have her desires in this place; and now, neither can he. So what was the good of giving away his heart to become the king of the Underworld? What was it all for, in the end?


	5. Part Five

**Part Five**

 _Be to her, Persephone,  
_ _All the things I might not be;  
_ _Take her head upon your knee.  
_ _She that was so proud and wild,  
_ _Flippant, arrogant and free,  
_ _She that had no need of me,  
_ _Is a little lonely child  
_ _Lost in Hell,_ — _Persephone,  
_ _Take her head upon your knee;  
_ _Say to her, "My dear, my dear,  
_ _It is not so dreadful here."_

— _Edna St. Vincent Millay_

Elizabeth stands in the enormous closet, looking around in bewilderment at the racks of dresses that surround her. Goddesses only wear simple clothing, as material things mean nothing to them; the girl has no idea how to begin to choose. She looks down at her chiton and chews on her lower lip, wondering why Meliodas had been displeased with her dress… but he had been, and she will not meet him again without wearing something he had provided for her.

Her fingers trace the silk, the satin, the lace, her mind overwhelmed with the feel and all the colors. Finally she pulls down a flowing dress of off-white, the most similar to her own familiar clothing, and slips it on. There are no mirrors in the Underworld, so Elizabeth does her best to braid her hair and put it in a twist at the base of her neck. Immediately she regrets the decision; now her shoulders are displayed, and there is nothing to cover the deep neckline that exposes the top of her chest. Quickly she hunts through until she finds a shawl to wrap around herself, her skin flushing a bit with heat.

Shoes are still too uncomfortable, but Elizabeth supposes the king will be pleased enough. Of course she should not _care_ if he is pleased, and has scolded herself several times that morning as she sat on the bed, debating if she should try to speak to him. After dinner he had once again taken her to the bedchamber and left her there, but did not return. The goddess had waited for him in the gloom until she had fallen asleep. It is difficult to tell night from day in the land of the dead; Elizabeth supposes that it does not matter in such a place.

But no matter how disappointed and frustrated and hurt she feels, she does still care about Meliodas, and what he thinks of her. She wishes they could return to the softness and stolen kisses from the forest, when she had promised to love him, when he had promised his heart. The goddess knows it had been all a lie, yet she clings to the memory, wanting to feel that way again.

Her new resolve is to discover the truth about Meliodas' heart. After all, it had been promised to her; if he is determined to keep her in this place, then she is determined to take what is hers. However, making this promise and actually gathering the courage to do so are two very different things.

Wearing something so beautiful does give the goddess a tiny bit of courage, so she heads into the hallway. The air feels different now, and cautiously she moves past the doors that line the corridor, following the sound of voices. She is wary now of who she may meet in the Underworld after the unpleasant encounter with Estarossa, wondering if there are any monsters behind other doors.

Bypassing the dining hall, Elizabeth turns down a different hallway, then another, each just as stark and dim as the last. The voices are getting louder, however, and when there is a darkened archway up ahead, she pauses. The goddess takes a deep breath before moving forward, hiding herself against the wall to peer cautiously around the corner.

Before her is the Great Hall, which she had found empty yesterday; now it is milling with people. Some are grinning, some are crying; there are women, and men, and children, all ages and races; some are horribly disfigured, some beautiful, but all of them waiting.

Immediately her heart feels as though it is too tight in her chest. Her first instinct is to rush forward, and nearly makes the mistake of pressing her healing magic out to the first unfortunate young man that wanders close enough, his left arm hanging at a horrible angle as he walks by. But then she realizes that these must be the dead; only the souls of the living that remain. Her eyes flicker up to the dais she knows is at the other end of the room, and as she expects, the king is on his throne, his power and energy as black as the chair in which he sits.

One by one she watches the souls step forward to the king. She is too far to hear the words but can hear their voices drifting towards her. Then to her surprise, the king will raise a hand, and the soul will head to the door on the left or the right, the very ones she nearly went through herself the day before. Elizabeth shudders to think of what would have happened to her if she had gone through them. Would she have been lost forever?

Elizabeth watches as the souls move through the hall, one after another disappearing behind the forbidden doors. Despite her fear of what lays beyond them, however, the goddess is curious too. Perhaps she can ask Meliodas more about them when they are alone together?

"Are you the goddess?" a voice says behind her, and Elizabeth jumps. She turns and sees someone watching her with a scowl, who looks so much like Meliodas that she actually does a double-take. Her eyes dart from the king still on his throne back to the stranger, who is so similar to him even with the dark hair and eyes that her heart flutters a bit.

"Well?" he says again, and Elizabeth nods. "Who are you?" she asks.

His eyes narrow a bit before answering. "My name is Zeldris. I am the king's brother." He folds his arms as he regards her closely. "You got our other brother in quite a bit of trouble yesterday, you know."

"I—didn't realize," she stutters in surprise. She knows he must mean Estarossa, but what kind of trouble would he have been in, that was her fault?

Before she can ask more, Zeldris says, "Are you afraid of the souls in the hall?"

Elizabeth thinks for a moment before responding, "I am not afraid of them, no. I wish I could help them somehow. I fear for what happens when they leave the hall."

Zeldris snorts and walks towards her. She sucks in a gasp and steps to the side, but he ignores her movement and stands in the doorway, watching the group gathered inside. "There is no need to fear for them," he says coldly. "The choice of which door they will be sent through was made long before they reached this place."

She puzzles over what he means in silence for a moment. "Have you seen the other side?" she asks hesitantly.

He glances over at her, his mouth curling up in a chilling smile. "Are you so curious? Would you like me to show you?" Quickly she shakes her head, and he laughs. "Again, there is nothing to fear. At least not for one with a pure heart."

"A pure heart?" Elizabeth frowns, taking a step towards the king's brother. "Do you have one?"

"Do I have what?" he asks sharply.

"A heart?" Her voice trembles a bit with the question. "Are you a demon, like the king?"

Zeldris slowly turns and looks into her eyes. "I am a demon. But that has nothing to do with having a heart or not. Some demons have several, you know."

Now Elizabeth is even more confused. "The king does not have one," she says, not meaning to speak out loud; once the words escape her, the goddess' eyes go wide as she looks at the demon.

"Who told you _that_?" Zeldris asks slowly.

"Me-Meliodas," breathes Elizabeth. She watches as his mouth pulls together tightly for a moment before he turns back to watching the activity in the hall.

Another long moment passes, and the goddess watches him carefully. Finally, she swallows thickly and asks, "Zeldris, do you know what happened to it?" The demon's back stiffens, and she hurries on, "If the king has lost it, or it was stolen, I would like to get it back for him. Would you—would you help me find it?"

Now when he looks at her, it is with a menace that is as surprising as it is alarming. "He did not _lose_ it, you fool," he bites out sharply. "There is a sacrifice necessary to become the king. Any power from the gods requires a sacrifice."

Elizabeth is taken aback by his answer. She blinks rapidly as she tries to process Meliodas willingly giving up his heart for power. Would he really do such a thing? She looks back at the throne, her breath catching for a moment. "He… he gave it away?" Tears prick the corners of her eyes. If this is true, then it means she has no hope. _They_ have no hope. Elizabeth cannot return a heart to him if there is none to return.

She can feel the disdain from Zeldris, feel his eyes on her as she quickly swipes at the hot tears that hover on her lashes, but she does not care. "Did you give something up as well?" she asks, her question tinged with anger.

When the demon does not respond, Elizabeth looks up. He no longer seems angry, just uncomfortable, his face a bit pale. "You did, didn't you?" Zeldris clears his throat and turns away, but now her curiosity flares and she steps forward. "What was your sacrifice, Zeldris?"

There is the hint of pain on his face, and Elizabeth instinctively reaches out, her healing power crackling like electricity on her fingertips. Zeldris jerks away, his fists clenching as he snaps, "Do not _ever_ ask me that again!" With that he is gone, leaving Elizabeth shaking and alone.

* * *

Meliodas becomes aware of the goddess' presence not long after she begins to watch him. It was actually Zeldris that alerted him first. His brother's power had always been difficult to miss, so when he had stopped to talk with someone, it had piqued the king's interest. Realizing it was Elizabeth to whom Zeldris was speaking with, he kept a close eye on them both; but his brother left soon afterwards, much to his relief, and Meliodas had been able to continue his work without interruption.

Only a few souls remain for his attention now. There are more gathering beyond the hall—there were _always_ more gathering—but they can remain in wait until the king returns. A trembling man steps before him, and Meliodas sighs to himself to see the many crimes this man had committed in his life. To make matters worse, he had begged the gods for help on multiple occasions, pledging to change his ways again and again. Both of his brothers will have fun with this one, and tiredly he waves him to the right.

The last soul to step up is a young woman, her eyes bright and wide with fear. Her blonde hair is messed, the flowers that had been woven through it broken and dirty. Her dress is covered in blood, and the girl stumbles forward, her lower lip quivering. "Please, sir," she rasps, sinking to her knees. "Where am I? What has happened?" She looks down at her soiled dress, her hands twisting into the fabric. "My husband—he is looking for me, I know he is—"

"Quiet," Meliodas sighs, firmly but not cruelly. The girl looks up at him as her mouth snaps shut, and the king looks into her eyes. "Do you truly not know where you are?"

Slowly the girl looks around, her head turning from one side to the other. "I… I was at the festival, and I…"

There is a gasp from the other side of the room, and Elizabeth hurries inside. Meliodas sits up straight in his chair, ready to stop her from doing whatever she has come to do; but the goddess stands frozen, her hand on her mouth, tears rolling down her cheeks. "No," she chokes, taking halting steps towards the girl. "No, please, _no_."

The girl follows Meliodas' gaze over her shoulder, crying out when she sees Elizabeth approaching. "My goddess!" she screams, and at once Elizabeth is running to her, falling to the floor to pull the moaning girl into her arms. He watches in a confused horror as Elizabeth sobs against the girl's matted hair, holding her against her chest as she rocks her back and forth, both of them shaking.

"My darling, my darling," Elizabeth gasps. "How did this happen? What happened to you?"

Elizabeth pulls the girl up, cupping her face and brushing her bangs away, but the girl sits frozen, staring at her in return. "My goddess?" she finally whispers through Elizabeth's fussing. "Is it really you? We were—at the festival—but then you were gone—"

"I know, I know, I'm so sorry," sobs Elizabeth. She rubs her hands soothingly on the girl's bare arms; then gently, hesitantly, her hands reach towards the blood-soaked torso.

"Elizabeth!" the king snaps, having seen enough. The goddess looks up at him, but the girl cannot look away from her radiant face. "What are you doing in here?"

"Meliodas, please," Elizabeth begs, her one arm tight around the girl as she kneels up on her knees. Her shawl has fallen away, revealing the flowing silk now clinging to the goddess' body, and the king's lungs squeeze for a moment. She looks unbelievably lovely, even now in this nearly hysterical state. "Please," she whimpers again, her eyes shimmering. "I know this girl. She was my charge, and I—" Her eyes close as she cradles her again, pressing her cheek to the top of the girl's head. "I was supposed to protect her," Elizabeth whispers.

The king clears his throat. "That's enough, Elizabeth, there's nothing to be done," he answers firmly. "This girl is dead, and now she must receive her judgment."

"But…" Elizabeth's voice fades as she sits back, her sad gaze roaming over the girl. One hand lifts to trace along a petal still in her hair, next tracing along the outline of her face. Then her eyes focus on the dress soaked in blood. "Who did this?" she asks, her chest rising and falling rapidly. "Who did this to you, my darling?"

"I don't know," the girl whispers back, her voice sounding far away. "They came and killed so many, and the goddesses—"

"I said _enough_ ," Meliodas interrupts. He stands from his throne, and the girl suddenly pulls out of Elizabeth's grip, falling forward in supplication on the floor.

His gaze goes from the girl to the goddess, who slowly stands and faces him. "She was at the festival," Elizabeth says quietly. "The festival _you_ took me from. This girl was in my care."

"This girl was meant to die," Meliodas responds.

"Not _that_ day!" cries Elizabeth. "She had my blessings! She was just married—she had a child inside of her—" The goddess takes a few steps forward, now at the bottom of the steps. He clenches his jaw to steady himself from giving in to her loveliness, to the way she looks at him. Meliodas wants to give her anything she asks; why does she only ask for the impossible?

"There is nothing to be done," he repeats, quietly, gently. Then the king does something he has never done as the lord of the dead; he steps down the stairs from his throne, crossing the floor to stand in front of the weeping and shaking girl. He bends down and places a hand on her shoulder. "Now stand," he commands.

To his relief, she does, her eyes still betraying her fear, but no longer wild. "You will go to Purgatory," he says to the girl. "Your grandmother is waiting there."

"My…?" The girl looks to the door on the left, her mouth dropping open, and Meliodas nods. "Now go," he says. Without another glance she hurries forward and through the door, and when it clicks closed, he finally dares to turn and look at the goddess.

Elizabeth is staring at the door, now clutching her shawl around her tightly, her lips trembling again. "She… she was my… my…" All at once, the goddess crumbles, and Meliodas has her in his arms in an instant, pulling the crying goddess against him. Her arms are tight around his shoulders, her face pressed unashamedly against his neck, and Meliodas feels a twisting in his stomach as he holds her. He carries the goddess to his throne, taking his seat as he places her over his lap. Meliodas holds her against him, waiting for her to finish, glad when he finally feels her sobs give way to quieter tears before she finally goes silent and still.

They stay like this for a while, and Meliodas soaks in the silence and the gradually calming woman in his arms. He has never given comfort before, and now he has done so _twice_ within minutes; Meliodas is feeling a bit shaky himself. Focusing on matching her breathing, he wonders if he should say something. But this feels right somehow, so he waits.

"I'm sorry," Elizabeth finally says, her lips whispering against his skin. She sits up a bit but remains on his lap, her arms around him loosening.

Meliodas nods. "Death is a part of life, Elizabeth. It's inevitable conclusion. Surely as a goddess of life, you must understand that more than any others?"

Elizabeth visibly swallows, then looks over her shoulder at the door to Purgatory. "I give life its blessings, and to see it taken away so cruelly… She had much left. And life _inside_ of her, Meliodas." Her lip trembles a bit again as her eyes close, and he skims his hand across her cheek soothingly. "She was my responsibility. I failed her. She is dead because I left her… to look for you."

Meliodas sighs. "Death has his own agenda," he says simply. "It is not my place to understand why one person is chosen over another. My role is only to read their hearts and send them to the place they belong."

"Read their hearts?" she asks. Elizabeth turns back to him, placing her palm delicately against his chest. Through his clothing he can feel the heat of her palm, and the contact sends a little thrill of pleasure through him. "Yes," he answers.

Her thumb strokes his chest, her fingers clenching, her eyes steady on where her hand is pressed on him. She opens her mouth as if to say something; but after a moment, she is up and walking back down the steps. Meliodas takes a few steps to follow, watching warily as she goes to the door to Purgatory. Elizabeth stops and looks up and down, her gaze sliding along the wood. Without turning around, she says, "What is inside?"

"Elizabeth," he warns, taking another step or two down the dais. "That is not a place for you."

"I need to see," responds the goddess. Her hand goes out to touch the wood, and he flinches as her fingertips make contact. "I need to know where she is."

Meliodas shakes his head. "It will change nothing."

Her hand pauses. Then she looks over her shoulder at him, their eyes connecting as she says, "You gave up your heart for this power. I want to see it for myself. Please."

The words stun him, and Meliodas nods. He steps forward and holds out his hand for hers. Elizabeth hesitates for just a split second before weaving their fingers together, and then Meliodas walks forward, the door opening for the king as he leads his queen inside.

Meliodas cannot recall the last time he has visited Purgatory, yet it is how he remembers it. He holds Elizabeth's hand tightly as they step onto the gray earth. It extends as far as one can see, going on for miles and miles in all directions.

He continues forward, stepping over the uneven ground. The rocks are mixed with soil and ash, tones of black and gray and brown. There is a sky, but it holds no clouds or sun, no moon or stars. Only a pale light shines on the fields that stretch before them. It is a place that exists for the souls who have earned peace for their eternity. There is no wind, no rain, no time in this place; no color or scents to stir the senses, no life to give remembrance to those who are dead.

Elizabeth squeezes his hand, her other gripping his arm as they walk. People mill about, some sit or stand or whisper to one another quietly. People do not eat or play or sing in Purgatory. There is very little sound at all besides hushed voices and shuffling feet.

Mountains in the distance mark the boundary of Purgatory, and inside are caves where souls may wander for years if they so choose. This is the only landscape in this world, which expands as needed for the souls that enter. It is not a design that Meliodas had given a terrible amount of thought to when he created this place as a part of his realm. It is peaceful, and that is all a soul needs at the end of a life of toil and misery. It is what the pure hearts earn in the afterlife.

"Meliodas," Elizabeth whispers, pulling on his arm to stop him. He pauses and looks over his shoulder. She seems stunned, her expression slack as she looks around the endless realm. "This is where souls spend eternity?"

"Yes," he answers. "They find peace here."

"But… there is nothing," she says, looking back at him now. "There is no joy. There is no life."

Meliodas frowns. "Of course not. How can there be life in a place such as this?"

Elizabeth does not answer, pulling away from him now, and walking through the quiet wanderers that drift aimlessly through the world. He follows her closely, sighing when she stops to kneel next to the woman she had tried to comfort in his throne room. The goddess brushes her hair back, and the woman offers her a weak smile. He is glad to see the girl has stopped her weeping, and is now sitting on the ground, staring blankly ahead. Elizabeth whispers to her, and the girl nods; then the goddess leans forward and kisses her forehead, and Meliodas remembers how her lips feel on him, heat rising along his neck.

She stands and returns to him, looking sadly at the ground. "I had not expected… this," she admits. "I can understand how this would be desirable to souls who have worked so hard during their lives. And yet…" Elizabeth wanders away, and before Meliodas continues after her, he looks back at the young woman she left sitting on the ground.

To his astonishment, the girl is now clean and brushed, her hair smoothed into its braids, her gown now white and free of blood. In her arms she cradles a baby with bright eyes and a puff of blonde hair; the girl no longer stares forward, but smiles sweetly at the baby, cooing and singing. Most startling in the sight is the color that now surrounds the girl. Where there was once black and gray ash, now there is green clover and white forget-me-nots dotted around her.

The king stands frozen and breathless in astonishment, unable to look away. "Elizabeth!" he cries, reaching out to catch her hand, but the goddess is gone. "Elizabeth!" Meliodas turns to find her, but the souls are now crowding around, murmuring to one another and trying to catch a glimpse of the girl with the flowers, now the most vibrant thing in Purgatory. "Elizabeth!"

He pushes past the people as they gather closer, commanding them to get out of his way as he goes. For a moment, he cannot see the goddess, searching in every direction for the silver hair; but then he notices on the ground dots of white, and green, sometimes mixed with purple or yellow or even pink. He follows the trail of flowers and grasses until he sees her again, now stopped to speak to a boy and girl holding hands, the children no more than eight or nine.

"We cannot find our mother," whimpers the boy, and his older sister puts her arm around him.

"It's all right, my dears," the goddess murmurs, and instantly both children relax. Standing, she looks around until she spots the king. Elizabeth gestures for him to approach, and if Meliodas had not been so shocked by the events of moments ago, he may have laughed at being given a direction in his own realm.

"Meliodas," she says, "is there a way to find a soul in this place?" Her question is so earnest he looks down at the children who stand next to her. But the girl interrupts, "Not him, my lady. He's the one who told us to go through the door, and sent our mother to the other door."

Elizabeth draws in a sharp breath. "I see," she says with a glance at the king. He presses his lips together, suddenly feeling extremely uncomfortable, and watches as the goddess kneels once more. "I'm very sorry, my loves," explains the goddess. "I'm afraid your mother is not here."

"I knew it," the girl whispered. Neither child is upset, not in Purgatory; but Elizabeth is right, there is no joy either. Meliodas wonders for the first time if his choice of _nothingness_ was the right one.

"Here," Elizabeth says, her smile bright and contagious, and the two children immediately grin back. "Hold out your arms."

The children readily comply, and the three form a little circle as the goddess places her hands over their arms. "Now close your eyes," she whispers, "and think of your mother so I can see."

Both immediately obey, and Meliodas can feel her soft energy as it washes out and over the children. The demon is somehow drawn to it, drawn to her light like a moth, and he finds his fingers itching to reach out and take hold of her. All at once he wants to feel her hair in his fingers and press his mouth on hers and drink the light that comes from inside of her, to fill himself up with her, to surround himself with _her_.

When he snaps himself from the daydream, the children are laughing, their arms now filled with bright lavender and white lilacs, dozens and dozens piled in the cradle they created. The air is instantly filled with the scent of the flowers, and in a large circle around the children, grass and clover have sprung up from the ashy ground.

The children run off, and Elizabeth watches with a small smile, before she turns to look back at him.

Meliodas closes the space between them, and he does what he longs to do: plunges his hands into her hair, pulling loose the knot at her nape so he can twirl the strands in his fingers, and pulls her mouth against his. She makes a noise of startled surprise, and he swallows it along with her sigh, their lips sliding together as he kisses her slowly.

Elizabeth returns the kiss, pressing her body against him and sliding her hands over his shoulders. When he tilts his mouth she opens hers, and the kiss deepens between them, their breathing beginning to get heavier, their kiss growing bolder. This is not the sweet hesitation from before, or the slow exploration, or the commanding forcefulness from the previous night; this is a connection that Meliodas can feel in every nerve in his body. When he pulls her tightly against him, one arm circling her waist securely, they sink onto the soft clover that is now thick and as high as their ankles.

Her mouth never leaves his as she settles against his thigh, and once again Meliodas is struck by the cool sweetness of her. This is just like the moment she had promised to be his queen, and he feels a rapidly growing pulse inside of him. This could be the moment he wanted, the moment he needed to make the goddess promise him again, a promise that this time could not be broken on a technicality.

Yet his plans are as fleeting as her sighs, and when her hands cup his cheeks to tilt his mouth the way she wants, he is lost. His hands move to her shoulders, pushing down the shawl she still wears. It drops to the grass, and now his palms roam down the front of her, caressing her body through the sleek fabric of her dress. He drags his hands along the sides of her breasts, then slowly around her ribcage, digging his fingers into the bare skin of her back. Remembering the last time they shared a moment like this, he pulls his mouth from hers and kisses her cheek before sliding down her neck.

Elizabeth groans and drops her head back, her own hands tightening on his back. Meliodas tugs gently on the skin of her neck, sucking on her unhurriedly as her back arches against him. He takes the movement as her permission and slides his hands to her front, slowly covering her breasts with his palms as he teases her neck.

Gently he squeezes her body, stopping the slow suction on her neck to catch his own breath. He is panting against her, his breath hot on her trembling skin while he massages her over the dress, groaning as he imagines what it would be like to finally be skin to skin. The flesh and the fabric roll in his hands, and he feels her pulse racing as her nipples grow taut beneath the dress. The desire he has for the goddess squirming in his hands and rocking her body on his lap is beginning to pound inside of him, driving him towards a madness he does not understand. He kisses her neck again, breathing her in, and he _wants_ her. He wants…

"Elizabeth," he gasps, squeezing her body and pulling a soft squeal of pleasure from the goddess. His mouth slips back up her neck to her ear, and he whispers to her, "Elizabeth, I want to love you."

"Please, Meliodas," she moans, turning her face to capture his lips with hers.

Again they kiss, the searing passion stealing his words, but he forces himself to keep his head long enough to say against her lips, "Elizabeth, love me. Stay here. Stay with me."

She stills, the hands in his hair clenching for a moment, and then she sits back on her legs. The clover is now as high as his elbows, buds of pink and white surrounding them. Elizabeth breathes heavily as she looks at him, one hand moving to slide down the side of his face.

He knows what she is about to say, so he quickly cuts off her protest. "I cannot give you my heart," he whispers. "But can you accept another gift?"

"A gift?" she whispers back, her eyes searching his face.

Meliodas smiles as he nods. "You asked me for grass, and for the breeze and the sun. You asked for the moon and stars." He looks up at the pale, dull sky. "This place is yours. You can create all you want here. You can have all that you desire."

She simply stares at him in shock. "I don't know if I can," she answers softly.

The king kisses her cheek. "This gift has no strings. You can decide later if you want to stay. But while you are here, make this place yours." His mouth turns up in a bit of a smile. "You were right. Even the dead need joy. Only you can give it to them."

The goddess sags against him, pulling him tightly in her arms, and the king of the Underworld laughs as his own go around her waist, holding her close as her lips dust against his cheek.


	6. Part Six

**Part Six**

 _Can you even imagine yourself in paradise?  
_ _Even the daughter of gods must know loneliness,  
_ _must sometimes want nothing more than to be  
_ _trapped in a hell of forevers. Thank me, you queen.  
_ _I've given you forever._

— _Clementine von Radics_

Days go by, perhaps, Elizabeth is unsure. But in Purgatory, the sun rises and sets, the moon shines brightly, so she measures the day in the usual way as she works. There are so many things to create and do there: flowers and trees to plant, rivers and lakes to imagine and fill with fish, soft waterfalls and gentle rains and the music of birds. So very much to do, but Elizabeth is flourishing with the way her creativity is able to run wild.

The souls are drawn to her, and she gives them gifts: bread and fruit, soft pillows, musical instruments. She raises a forest in one part of Purgatory for the heroes to hunt; the animals are abundant and clever, but there is no fear because there is no true death. Meliodas joins her sometimes, after he is done his work for the day. Elizabeth excitedly takes him around Purgatory, showing him the things she has done and discovered, and the demon looks on in true amazement. The beauty she creates rivals that of the living world, and each time he sees her shining eyes and bright smile he overwhelms her with a kiss.

When she grows tired, he leads her back into the castle of the Underworld. Each night they sit at the grand table for dinner, and each night she refuses to eat or drink. It frustrates the king, she knows this, but there is still a lingering fear of what will happen to her if she does. When the meal is done he leaves her in the bedchamber. They do not share the bed, as Elizabeth had assumed they would; each night she sleeps deeply, but alone.

One day she grows weary while sitting on the edge of a brook, watching the different fish swim in the clear water. Elizabeth decides to return to her room and rest, and try to decide what to do.

Elizabeth can feel herself getting weaker each day as she puts out her powers without any nourishment to replenish it; however, nothing Meliodas says or does will convince her to eat or drink. If she eats the food of the Underworld, she may become trapped there forever. But isn't that what she wants? Doesn't she want to stay and live there as the queen?

 _I want Meliodas_ , she thinks to herself, sighing as she stands on tired legs. As she walks back to the door that will lead her from Purgatory, her options roll around in her mind. Elizabeth wishes to stay and be with the king; she cannot imagine wanting another now that she has met him. And there seems to be so much more to come, more that is missing, more to learn. Something other than his heart, that is.

The king is growing restless, she can tell, despite his gift to her, despite the way he still looks at her, despite the way his mouth is hungry against her lips and her skin. What if he sends her back to Britannia? Or if the goddesses come, her _father_ comes, and demands she return?

Eating the food would solve this problem, or promising herself to Meliodas… but still she holds herself back.

The goddess does not notice when she walks into the throne room that it is empty. The silence, however, she does notice, and blinks in surprise when she realizes she is halfway through the room. She had been walking in a daze, and heading in the wrong direction, so Elizabeth shakes herself and quickly hurries around a corridor as a shortcut to the bedchamber.

When she passes the dining hall, she hears voices, and immediately Elizabeth pauses, listening. Her heart seizes for a moment before she realizes that it is not Meliodas; but before her breathing can return to normal, she recognizes them as the king's brothers.

"Calm down, brother," the younger, Zeldris, says.

"All of this _excess_ , this _waste_ , and for what? And now she has control of Purgatory… you realize that her power now rivals our own?"

Elizabeth swallows nervously. There is no doubt they are speaking of her, and Estarossa's voice is tight with indignation.

"The power of a goddess could never rival that of a demon," Zeldris snaps.

"Are you sure she even is one?" bites back Estarossa. "Have you _ever_ seen one such as she? When has a goddess ever wanted a throne, or power? When has a goddess used her body to get what she wanted?"

Her hand goes to cover her mouth, as the demon's words echo in her memory of her father, chastising her for such a thing, going on about the purity of goddesses to sustain Britannia. Is this why she is so weak? Perhaps it is not the food at all, but her disconnect from the world of the living, her purpose as a goddess of life. Her stomach churns with the idea, and her other palm flattens against it.

Zeldris' laughter floats into the hallway. "You are a demon prince of the Underworld, and yet you are intimidated by a little girl."

"A little girl that can sway the mind of the king," Estarossa answers.

"And what do you propose to do then? You must be careful," warns Zeldris. "Meliodas has already warned you once. If you speak out against her again, you'll be a guest in Tartarus instead of a host."

"Perhaps we won't need to speak to the king," responds the other. "You can tell the girl has not given him her body, or her heart. How long do you think his patience will last?"

There is a pause, and Zeldris' voice as he answers shows that he is carefully considering his brother's words. "You may be right. But regardless, Meliodas' patience will outlast Baltra's. Even now they still scour Britannia, searching for the missing goddess. They will come calling on the Underworld eventually."

It is Estarossa's turn to laugh, and the sound makes the goddess shiver. "It's possible, but I still think the king will grow tired of the girl once this madness passes. He has no heart; without physical love, what will keep his interest?"

Their voices are fading as they move out of the room, and Elizabeth presses up against the wall, closing her eyes. So many questions are now swirling around her: her father is hunting for her, the king's brothers are jealous of her, and they doubt her motivations for being there… But the most devastating is the thought that Meliodas is growing tired of her. Her fear of being sent away surfaces, and she is so conflicted between wanting her home and wanting her demon.

No matter what happens, she will not give up Meliodas. He may not have a heart to give her, but there must be a way.

When she reaches her bedchamber and spies the large bed, she wonders what Estarossa had meant about _physical_ love. Is it possible that Meliodas can give her something else? Or can she give him a gift in return? Elizabeth remembers what the king had said about what the humans really do for love, before he had kissed her roughly and shoved her legs apart. She sinks onto the bed, a flash of heat moving through her, a stirring inside that mimics the day she had fantasized about Meliodas kissing her. Back then, love was still a mystery; now she is determined to explore this one as well.

* * *

Meliodas waits at the table again for his goddess. It had been a quick morning for him as he hurried through his duties in order to return to Britannia while Elizabeth was still working. He had been going to the land of the living discreetly to check on the goddesses' search for his Elizabeth, and to gauge how close they were to coming to his realm for help. The king is glad to see that his brothers' folly did not alert Baltra or the others that he was the one who had taken the girl. Yet he still feels that the countdown is ticking away, and it is only a matter of time before she is taken from him.

His arms are tight with stress when the door opens, as it does every evening. And like every evening, he stands to escort her to her chair. But this night, Meliodas stops short. When Elizabeth enters, she is not dressed in the usual plain dress she wore when he stole her away, or one of the few simple ones that she had selected from the closet. Tonight she wears an elaborate dress in a dark shade of blue, that falls to the floor and clings tightly to every curve of her body. Her hair, instead of in its usual braids and twists, now flows freely over her shoulders in waves, just as it had the first day he had spied her. The goddess looks like a queen, and it takes his breath away.

"Is everything all right?" she asks, snapping him out of his gaze. He realizes he has been gawking at her, so quickly the king takes her by the arm and guides her to her seat. "You look lovely," he says in response.

Elizabeth nods, then sits silent and still as he eats. Her eyes are down, staring into her lap, and Meliodas frowns at her unusual silence. Typically the goddess would be talking, telling him of what she accomplished in Purgatory or asking him dozens of questions about the Underworld. The silence, however, stretches between them, until finally he sets his utensils down heavily.

"What is wrong, Elizabeth?" he snaps at her, his voice harsher than he had intended.

She jumps a bit in her chair, her eyes wide as they fly to meet his. "Nothing," she breathes.

He watches her for a moment before taking a long sip of his wine. "Are you still not eating?" he asks.

With a slight blush, Elizabeth nods and looks back down. "I'm sure it is wonderful. It's just that—"

"Yes, yes, I know," answers Meliodas impatiently, waving away her excuse. "How much longer do you plan to hold out in this? You will have to eat eventually."

The goddess does not answer, but simply keeps her eyes down. The king sighs. "Was your day productive?" he finally asks.

Elizabeth's eyes flicker up at him as she nods, but Meliodas frowns. The clothing, the silence, and now she seems… nervous? "Tell me what happened," he demands.

A moment passes, and then the goddess smiles at him. "I was thinking about you today," she says, a bit shyly.

"You were?" His mouth twitches, and he takes another sip of wine to cover his smile. "What were you thinking?"

"That I would like to give you a gift," Elizabeth says simply.

The king sits up straight, his mouth opening in surprise. "A… gift?" he manages to stammer. With her recent behavior that was the last thing he had expected her to say.

Elizabeth giggles, the sound so familiar now that it soothes his nerves. But at the same time, he is quickly growing consumed with curiosity. "What is this gift?" Meliodas asks, unable to hide his smile this time.

To his astonishment, she stands, and walks towards him around the table. His eyes roam over her body, his breathing catching with the way she smiles shyly at him, how she extends her hand expectantly. A bit nervous himself now, he takes her hand and she pulls him to stand, and Meliodas follows her willingly as she leads him from the hall.

Moments later they are in the bedchamber. Elizabeth softly closes the door, and then pulls him towards the bed, but Meliodas hesitates. "Elizabeth? What are you doing?"

She turns and looks back at him, their fingers still laced together. Elizabeth smiles sweetly and takes a step towards him. "I want to give you your gift."

"What is it?" he asks quietly.

"Me," she whispers.

Meliodas gasps. He watches in amazement as she faces him. Elizabeth reaches up behind her neck and opens the clasp of her dress; a moment later the fabric is sliding down her body, pooling at her feet, and he can barely breathe at the sight of her beauty.

She moves closer, and the king drags his eyes from her body up to her face. He knows he must look ridiculous, his eyes wide and mouth hanging open, but Elizabeth just smiles at him softly. Her eyelids close slowly as she reaches out to slide her hands over his shoulders, and then she presses her body against him. Meliodas immediately wraps his arms around her, the feel of her bare skin making his fingers twitch. He cannot stop staring at her lashes, at her mouth, the way her hair cascades down the side of her face; then she leans in and kisses his cheek in a way that reminds him how very sweet and innocent she is. "Meliodas?" she whispers. "Will you kiss me?"

One hand wraps in her hair as he pulls her mouth against his. Their lips barely graze together at first, her kiss soft and warm. They brush again and again, and Meliodas begins to lose himself in the sweet gentleness, his fingers squeezing and releasing on her. He takes her lower lip in his to suck on it gently, and when Elizabeth gives a soft moan he tilts his face to deepen the kiss.

It feels so perfect, _she_ is so perfect, her breasts against his chest and her fingers stroking on his neck. Her scent infuses his senses as his hand moves lower, and all at once he wants to touch every inch of her. But the kiss goes on, until finally Elizabeth pulls away, sucking in a deep breath of air.

Meliodas swallows and closes his eyes, trying to calm the nerves that are pulsing in his skin. But his lungs tighten when he feels her fingers on his shirt, slowly unbuttoning down his chest, and he wonders if he can do this, if he wants this. He wants _her_ , certainly. But how? For what? He has no heart, he cannot love, then how can he take this gift from her? Does Elizabeth even know what it is she is offering?

Soft lips dust his neck as he feels the cloth pulled back over his shoulders. She nips him softly, and when the shirt is removed his hands are back on her hips. "Elizabeth," he murmurs as her mouth moves along his chest, a deep shudder racking him. "Are you sure that you want this?"

"Yes, I…" Her voice trails off as her lips press against his shoulder, his earlobe, the corner of his mouth. "I know there is more, Meliodas… I want to give you more…"

The king captures her mouth again, swallowing her explanation, as his hands roam further downwards. Lifting her easily, he carries her to the bed and sets her down gently on the soft mattress. "You have already given me a gift," he says.

One of her arms is wrapped around his shoulders, the other behind her to push herself up on the bed. "Meliodas, I want you to kiss me."

Her voice is quiet, but there is a twist to it, like a needy whine. Their mouths move together again, harder this time, opening for one another as he lays down on top of her. She is so very close, her body his for the taking, and he is nearly shaking as his hands slide up her sides. The goddess arches her back, pushing up against him, and the demon bites her lip as his hands cover her breasts.

"I will, Elizabeth," he promises. Meliodas leans down to kiss along her chest, his hands and mouth slow as they move over the soft flesh of her body. Carefully, slowly, the king worships the goddess, rolling her body in his hands, pulling on her hardened nipples with his lips, cautiously sucking on one and then the other. His mouth moves freely on her chest, leaving a trail of wet kisses on her skin, and she is nearly on fire under his touch. She squirms beneath him, soft whimpers sending shocks of pleasure down the base of his skull and pooling low in his core.

"Meliodas…" she moans, her hands roaming through his hair.

He grins in satisfaction and moves lower, planting a kiss on her stomach, then on her navel, then on her pelvis. Then he looks up at the goddess, whose eyes are closed tightly, her hands now gripping the sheets at her sides. "Do you want more?" he asks.

Elizabeth nods and whispers her assent, so Meliodas gently pushes her legs apart. He takes his time now, grazing his fingertips along her trembling legs, enjoying every twitch and gasp that leaves her, familiarizing himself with her sensitive parts. From her ankles upwards he slides his hands over her, feeling her inner thighs, her hips, squeezing her breasts again before moving back down her smooth stomach. She is small and delicate in his hands, and Meliodas enjoys the way she lays shamelessly beneath him, her innocence as captivating as her body.

For a moment he stills his movements, pressing his face against her stomach. The demon breathes in the scent of her skin, his tongue darting out to taste the sweet and salty mixture of her body. It is a quiet moment, the only sound Elizabeth's slow panting, and his hands squeeze against her hips. There is so much he wants to say and do in this moment, but the war that is rolling inside of him, the pull between _taking_ and _giving_ is so sharp it is almost painful. He thinks of how she has always looked at him with such blatant trust and warmth, except for the moment she learned he had no heart, and Meliodas realizes he cannot do this. He cannot steal her innocence the way he stole her away from Britannia.

"Meliodas?" Elizabeth shifts beneath him, and when he raises his head, she is looking down at him with a concerned curiosity. He moves up, and so does she, and now they are both sitting on the bed, her legs wrapped around his waist.

He holds her hips, sliding upwards to wrap his grip around her torso. "Elizabeth, I would give you anything," he whispers.

"For now, can I have another kiss?" she answers, leaning up on her hands to press her body forward.

All at once they are sealed again, their lips and tongues nearly wild as they pleasure one another, and Meliodas realizes that she is rocking against him, her hold on him tight as she uses his body as leverage. Experimentally he slides a hand from her back down her side, then over her thigh, and when she spreads her legs open a bit, he slips in between them.

Her body is scorching hot, and slick, and the moan that she gives when he touches her soft folds sends his own pulse racing. He does it again, and again, teasing the opening to her body, spreading the silky moisture he finds with his fingers.

Elizabeth is moving now, her head dropping back, and he watches in pure fascination as her breathing quickens, her body lengthening as she stretches to grind against his hand. Her back arches as her hips rock into him, and with a grin his other hand moves to cover a breast, enjoying the feel of her body again. She is so beautiful the way she shamelessly gives herself to him. Elizabeth is his, and she _is_ a gift.

Meliodas moves and presses the goddess backwards. She gives a yelp as his hands leave her heated body, but her protest immediately melts into a groan of pleasure when he presses her thighs up and apart and kisses her body between them. He lavishes her opening with all the passion he had given her mouth, and in moments the goddess is twisting on the bed, her legs shaking as she gives a sharp cry. There is a flush of heat and warmth from her body, which Meliodas drinks in greedily, and all too soon she collapses back, now limp in his arms.

With a final soft kiss to the inside of her thigh Meliodas sighs, a shudder rolling up his spine. He will do anything, _anything_ , to have her again, to watch as she comes undone beneath him and over him and next to him. Pressing his forehead against her hip, he murmurs, "Elizabeth, please stay. Please love me. I will give you anything to stay."

No answer comes, and he peeks up at the goddess. The girl is sound asleep, her hair spread out around her, her mouth slightly open as she breathes deeply. Meliodas watches for a long moment, wondering what to do; then he removes the rest of his clothes and slips into the bed, pulling her against him and the blankets over them both.


	7. Part Seven

**Part Seven**

 _Persephone is having sex in hell.  
_ _unlike the rest of us, she doesn't know  
_ _what winter is, only that  
_ _she is what causes it._

 _She is lying in the bed of Hades.  
_ _What is in her mind?  
_ _Is she afraid? Has something  
_ _blotted out the idea  
_ _of mind?_

 _She does know the earth  
_ _is run by mothers, this much  
_ _is certain. She also knows  
_ _she is not what is called  
_ _a girl any longer. Regarding  
_ _incarceration, she believes_

 _she has been a prisoner since she has been a daughter._

— _Louise Gluck_

For the first time, the king of the Underworld wakes to a feather touch and soft lips. He sighs and stretches a bit, reaching up to find silky hair that he drags his fingers through; when he opens his eyes, his goddess is laying over him, slowly and quietly kissing a path along his shoulder. "Elizabeth?" he whispers, and she hovers over him with a smile, her hair hanging down to frame her face.

"I like when you kiss me there," she says softly. "Do you like it too?" Her mouth dips down to his collarbone, her tongue slipping out to quickly press against his chest.

"Yes, of course," he laughs. He can feel her smile against his skin as she moves lower, her lips brushing over his chest. Meliodas sighs again, wonderfully content, and sweeps her hair back over one shoulder so he can watch the way she moves over him. Her bare body lays across him, and he can feel her breasts and her legs and her sex pressed on his skin. It is the first time they lay naked together, and his blood pulses with her movements.

Her mouth continues its journey, and Meliodas lets out a sharp hiss when she tugs on his nipple with her lips. He lays frozen as she licks the sensitive nub again and again, but when she grazes him with her teeth he grips her arms and gently pulls her back. "I liked that too," she says as she leans back over him. "Don't you?"

"It's a bit ticklish on me," the demon answers. He slides up to sit against the pillows as Elizabeth sits back on her legs, thinking for a moment.

"Meliodas," she finally says, "are you sure you do not have a heart?"

Her hand goes out and grazes over his chest, and he nods. "Perhaps the gods… made a mistake?" asks the goddess.

Meliodas shakes his head. "I gave it willingly, Elizabeth. I wanted to rule this kingdom. If I had known…"

He looks away, an embarrassed heat sliding up the back of his neck, and he feels the goddess slide closer. Her hand goes to his cheek, and she turns his face back to look at her. "What happened last night," she breathes. He looks in her eyes, her face close to his, and he covers her hand with his. "It had to be love," she insists. "I had imagined, but never knew… Meliodas, you loved me, didn't you?"

The king swallows thickly, unsure of what to say. "I don't know what is happening," he finally admits. "I gave away my heart. I do not have desires, I do not feel anything. Until you, Elizabeth." Her eyes widen a bit, and he traces his fingers down her arm. "I don't know why I feel with you. I don't know why I want you, but I do. Pleasure meant nothing before, but now… Elizabeth, you are changing me and I don't understand."

Her eyes search his face, the corners soft, and finally she leans in to brush her lips on his cheek. "I want you to feel, Meliodas," she says. Then the goddess moves onto his lap, and for the hundredth time he marvels at her. Her hands are on his shoulders, and she looks at him with such adoration, her emotions plain on her face, that he is momentarily overwhelmed by her. The king's gaze slides downward, drinking in her flesh and the curves of her body, the soft sway of her breasts, the soft pink of her nipples, the way her stomach smoothes inwards before her hips flare out to the shapely thighs, the place between them that he longs to touch and taste and bury himself inside.

Elizabeth presses her mouth on his, and he returns her kiss as her hands move down his body. "I want you to feel," she repeats, and something inside of him feels as though it is opening, a spark deep inside of him. Soon her hands are on his hips, then slipping downwards, and when her soft fingers find his sex, she begins to slowly stroke him just as he had done to her the night before. Meliodas gasps and leans back in surprise, his body kindling with a sudden fire. Her eyes go downwards, and there is a heavy silence punctuated only by his ragged breathing as he grows thick and long in her hands, his body shaking as the goddess sits back and unabashedly caresses him.

Meliodas moans her name, and with one movement he pulls her against him, the kiss they share searing with his building passion. Elizabeth continues the steady movements of her hands as his own go to her body, sliding over her breasts and stomach and hips and thighs before caressing in between, using the knowledge from their last encounter to tease her in a way that has her rocking and squirming in little time.

He is holding back, not wanting to scare her, not wanting to hurt her, the promise he made to himself to keep her innocence echoing in his mind. But the way the goddess moves against him and sighs as he fondles her is driving him steadily back to the madness he had dismissed before. Meliodas chokes out her name, and unthinkingly she pushes her body against his, the wet heat between her legs gliding along the rigid length of his own.

"There's more… I know there is more…" she moans, and he pulls back from where he is kissing her throat so he can grab her hips to stop her movements. Elizabeth looks down at him with eyes dark with desire.

"Elizabeth, I can't… We can't…"

"Just feel me," she whispers in his ear, and Meliodas' resolve is ruined. His arms go around the goddess and he rolls her over, climbing between her legs as her arms tug him down. One hand goes into her hair to caress the back of her head, and he licks her lips as her hands dance along his stomach. His other hand goes to her leg and pulls it around him, and he huffs as her calf presses against the back of his thigh, urging him closer.

Meliodas tilts up, and the head of him pulses against the wet entrance to her body. Suddenly through the haze of passion and need and her quiet cries is a new emotion: fear.

His body is doused with a sudden coldness as the weight of this moment begins to smother him, and for a second he drowns in the apprehension that comes with receiving what he wants. He can't stop, but he can't go on, and he feels frozen even as he eases forward and slips inside the heat of her.

The days and weeks of wanting and needing the goddess crash through him as he experiences the bliss of her body around him. Slowly he pushes inside, inch by inch swallowed by his Elizabeth, and even as she tenses around him he cannot think of anything but how good it feels. Elizabeth is wet and hot and it is nearly painful it feels so good, so right.

 _This must be what it is to feel_.

There is no pleasure without pain, he remembers suddenly, and as he pulls back and pushes in again, he allows himself to topple into the ecstasy of _feeling_. He has been giving and giving to Elizabeth, and now as he takes his pleasure his powers flare out. The darkness inside of him where his heart once resided seeps through his veins as he thrusts. Meliodas wants, he needs, and he _takes_ his goddess, just as he claimed her in Britannia.

Again and again he rocks, slowly and steadily, and Meliodas kisses her neck and her chest and her nipple. But she does not respond except with a soft sound, and as he moves he looks up.

Elizabeth's face is twisted in pain, tears sliding down the sides of her face. He immediately stops his movements, staring at her with a growing horror. Then, when he shifts his hips and buries himself inside of her body, she gives a painful sound that slices through him.

"Elizabeth? What's wrong?" Meliodas lets go of her body and pushes himself up, sliding his throbbing length from her. She gasps, pushing on his shoulders, and the king pants as he begins to shake, wondering what to do. His body is hot and slick with sweat and their fluids, and all he wants is to return to that bliss of being inside of her, but something is wrong. He has hurt her.

The power inside of him is coiling around them both, and at once he snaps it back, the little tendrils of darkness that had been dancing along her skin leaving fading marks. Elizabeth shifts away, trying to close her legs, and her arms drop from their place around his shoulders and curl around herself.

"Elizabeth." He leans in closer, the dread of this moment making his muscles shake. _No pleasure without pain_ , he thinks, and he feels something hot and wet hovering in the corner of his eye. "Elizabeth, look at me."

But she will not, even as one hand reaches up to flatten against his chest. At first he thinks she is feeling once again for his heartbeat, the heartbeat he _doesn't have_ , but then she is pushing him away, and Meliodas is standing next to the bed as she rolls onto her side.

A sharp rap at the door startles them both, and the king's heaving emotions flare into a fiery anger at whoever dares to stand on the other side of the door. "Get out!" he shouts, the fury filling the room, and he hears Elizabeth whimper.

"Your Grace!" It's Zeldris on the other side, and Meliodas thinks of how he will rip his brother limb from limb. But as he takes a step towards the door, the younger demon calls through the wood, "The goddesses are here and demanding you release Elizabeth to them! Baltra himself wants to speak to you!"

The king stops, the room tipping for a moment. He looks over his shoulder at his goddess, his queen, who is shaking on the blankets. Quickly Meliodas climbs onto the bed, swallowing as she turns her face away to press her forehead into the softness. "Elizabeth, please stay here," he whispers. With one hand he wipes her damp hair back, and presses a trembling kiss on her temple. "You will be safe here. I will return." Then he dresses, grabbing his weapon, and is gone to face his fate.

* * *

For a while afterwards, Elizabeth lay curled on the bed, her mind a mess of confusion. The pain of Meliodas making love to her had faded, now just a dull ache deep inside of her. But the way his power had flared, and the way he had looked at her as if she were something to be used and consumed… it was the first time she had ever felt afraid of him.

She knows now that he has been right all along. He has no heart. Why else would there have been so much pain, so much wrong with what they shared? It had all been so _thrilling_ , the goddess acting on some instinct she felt was as much a part of her as her healing magic. It had all felt so right, until the moment his body pushed inside of hers.

Slowly Elizabeth sits up, looking around. Zeldris had said the goddesses were there, her _father_ was there, and at once she feels that she must go. She slides off the bed and heads into the closet, hunting through the racks for something she can present herself in front of the others. Her hands tremble a bit at the thought of facing them, especially now after she has completely given herself over to the demon.

The goddess pauses. She may have given her body to him, but she has yet to give her heart.

Quickly she pulls out a simple dress and slips it on, running her fingers through her hair to comb it as she heads towards the door. She spots the elegant dress that she had worn to dinner in a heap on the floor, and Elizabeth hurries by remembering how it felt for it to slide from her form, how it felt for Meliodas' gaze to be on her body. The goddess exits the room and pulls the door closed in the familiar silence, pausing to listen for voices.

Making her way through the hallways, she decides to cut through the dining hall in order to remain hidden. Meliodas had asked her to stay in the room, but how could she, when others were debating her fate at that moment? She does not know for sure what she wants herself, but she is determined to make the decision on her own.

When she enters, she pulls up short to see Estarossa sitting in the king's chair. He is eating, his plate piled high with cheese and fruit, and he slathers a piece of bread with butter before taking a bite. Her mouth drops open in surprise, and the demon looks up at her, a smile spreading slowly over her face. Estarossa wipes his mouth with his napkin and then takes a long drink from the gilded cup in front of his setting. "Your Grace," he murmurs, standing and giving her a polite bow. "How lovely to see you."

Unsure how to answer, the goddess nods and edges towards the other end of the room. His eyes are on her as she walks, and when she approaches he spreads his hands towards the table. "Can I offer you something?" he says, indicating the food and drink on the table.

"No thank you," she answers politely.

"It's just as well," he replies with a sigh. "None of this is satisfying anyway."

Elizabeth watches as he takes another bite of the bread before tossing it onto his half-eaten meal. Then his eyes slowly move up to hers, and her breath catches in her throat. "Tell me, my queen, are you enjoying your stay?"

She looks around a bit, pinned under the question. "I... I am..."

"I only ask," he says with a bit of a smirk, "because all of the Underworld could hear how very much you are enjoying yourself last night."

Immediately a burning heat floods her cheeks, and Elizabeth gasps. She trembles a bit as Estarossa chuckles. "It would be a shame if someone alerted the goddesses you were here. I'm sure you have many more pleasures to experience."

Her eyes go to the door that will lead her to the hall, remembering through the humiliation of why she is there, and she moves with haste towards it; but Estarossa steps up and stops her with a hand on her arm.

"I would caution you before entering," he says. "The king is occupied with guests."

"It is my father," she replies coldly. "He is here for me."

"Is that so? What a pity. But even more reason to keep you safe." Her brows arch, and Estarossa smiles. "I must apologize for our first meeting. I did not know if you could be trusted, and I tempted you with the wrong door. But the king has made it clear that you are here to stay, and I must do my duty to my king. _And_ my queen," he adds, nodding his head.

Elizabeth blinks at him in surprise, but then nods. "I understand. Do you love your brother?"

Estarossa nods. "Very much, my queen. As do you, I presume."

She looks away, heat rising on her cheeks. "I do…"

"Have you given the king your heart yet?"

Her eyes snap up to him, and Elizabeth takes a deep breath. "I have not," she admits.

Estarossa clicks his tongue. "How very disappointing. Aren't you afraid the others will take you away without a promise to him?" When Elizabeth doesn't answer, he looks her over discerningly. "Is it because he has no heart you will not give him yours?"

Elizabeth steps back, pulling away from his hand still on her arm. "No," she breathes.

"Do think so very badly of him?" he continues, as if he had not heard her. "Perhaps as a goddess, you cannot understand sacrifice."

"That's not true," she insists, shaking her head. "I do understand it. I understand it now."

The demon folds his arms, looking down at her with a cool expression. "And what do you understand, my queen?"

Elizabeth squares her shoulders a bit, raising her chin. "I may have a heart, but I have never truly used it to love. I never knew desire, or true joy, before I met Meliodas. Because I had never experienced true sorrow, either. Or pain." She swallows, her voice going softer, as if speaking to herself, for herself. "I only knew peace, and it was as empty as Purgatory. As empty as the king." Her eyes dart to the door. "I won't go back," she says.

"Then you should do something," he bites out sharply, leaning down to look in her eyes. "Because the king is sending you away."

"No!" she cries, stepping around the demon, but again he stops her.

Estarossa tilts his head towards the table. "You may want to do something to make sure you cannot leave," he says. They stare at one another for a moment, and then he finally steps aside, walking towards the further exit.

Elizabeth watches him over her shoulder. Before he leaves she calls out, "Estarossa!"

The demon pauses but does not turn around. "What did you sacrifice for your power?" she asks.

He stands perfectly still as a moment ticks by, then another. Finally he simply turns and smiles at her before sweeping from the room.

The dining hall is silent now except for her heavy breathing. Elizabeth looks over at the table, still laden with an elaborate meal, and slowly she approaches. Her blood pulses as she looks at the food, her stomach suddenly roaring to life, twisting as her eyes glaze over the meats and fruits, the steaming vegetables and the fragrant wine. She sits in the king's chair, looking down at the plate of half-eaten food left by Estarossa. There is a slice of lean pork, a piece of broken bread, roasted carrots, and half of a pomegranate.

She shudders, hugging herself and leaning back in the chair. Tears slip down her cheeks as she thinks of devouring the food, but still she holds back. A trembling takes her over as the goddess feels suddenly angry with herself. She wants Meliodas' heart, but she won't give him her own. She fears losing him, but won't take the step to keep him either. Elizabeth covers her face with her hands, cursing her cowardice.

* * *

The throne room echoes with Baltra's anger. "You took my most precious daughter," he shouts, pointing an accusing finger at the king. "We have been searching for days and days. How _dare_ you—"

"Your daughter pledged herself to me," Meliodas answers evenly. He tilts his chin towards the woman standing next to him. "Ask your other daughter there. Elizabeth swore an oath to a god."

"And that oath was made invalid by your treachery," she hissed back at him.

The king regards her with a dark look. "I may have brought Elizabeth here," he continues, "but the goddess remained here of her own free will."

"As of she had a choice!" Margaret shouts, and Baltra holds up a hand. "If what you say is true," he replies to the demon, "then you have doomed Britannia. The goddesses of life work in tandem. If just one falls, the others cannot sustain the magic."

The king clears his throat. "Elizabeth stayed because she wanted to stay. She found purpose here. Purpose with me." His eyes go darker as his chin lowers slightly. "But she can no longer stay here. I wish for her to return to Britannia with you. She is not… fit to be my queen."

He watches as the god turns and speaks with the others, the goddesses murmuring and smiling to one another in relief. Meliodas turns to Zeldris who is standing nearby and says, "My brother will fetch her for you."

"You must still answer for this crime," growls Baltra.

The king stands. "Do not test me in my own realm. You have no authority here. I am granting your request because _I_ choose to do so. Do not forget that."

"Do not forget that _you_ are subject to the laws of the gods like any other!" the father cries. "If you dare touch another goddess again, _any_ other goddess, then—"

"Then what?" Meliodas snaps. His power surges outward, and the goddesses tremble at the darkness now licking at them, mere centimeters away from slithering over their skin. He raises his arm to show exactly what happens when he is threatened, but then he spots Elizabeth watching in horror by the side of the hall.

Quickly he snaps his powers back, and Baltra turns to follow his gaze. "Elizabeth!" he cries, stepping towards her; but the goddess breezes past, moving to stand at the bottom of the dais and gaze up at the king.

"You are sending me away," she says softly, more a statement than a question.

The room is silent, the air choking as they look at one another, then Meliodas nods. "Your place is in Britannia," he says simply.

She does not answer, but his stomach tightens to see the glimpse of a tear in her eyes. She blinks it away and answers, "I am sorry to have failed you, my king."

"Elizabeth," he whispers harshly, but she is turning away.

"Thank you for your hospitality," she says, then walks to her father. He embraces her closely as the other goddesses gather around, and a moment later Meliodas sends them out. He collapses back on his throne, the ache in his chest only growing now that she is gone.


	8. Part Eight

**Part Eight**

 _Wrap your arms around  
_ _My dark heart, it's yours to own.  
_ _Lighten it with yours._

— _Kirk Diedrich_

Days turned into weeks, and Elizabeth begins to fade. Food and drink taste like nothing; her eyes and skin and hair turn dull. Nothing satisfies her anymore, not the song of birds or fresh cream or a field of bright yellow flowers. Nothing compares to the love she nearly had, and the love that had forsaken her.

There is no pleasure without pain, and Elizabeth knows this is her penance for experiencing such pleasure that goddesses are forbidden to have. She understands why this is; what goddess would give her life to service and spend eternity giving life to others? Not when such things exist in the world. And now Elizabeth struggles in her own duties as a goddess. She had thought that returning to Britannia would replenish her power. Elizabeth ate and drank and slept, but instead of feeling renewed, she is drained. It all seems to be pale, her life a dream, yet when she sleeps all she can feel and taste and hear is _him_.

The other goddesses worry over her, and Baltra himself examines Elizabeth, but there is no precedent for this. Her powers are slowly draining, and as she works, she grows tired more often, unable to fulfill her duties.

Margaret asks her about her experience in the Underworld, and Baltra demands details. But the goddess refuses to tell them of what she saw or what she did. It is hers alone, she decides. If she cannot have Meliodas anymore, then she will keep what she can. The rest of the goddesses look at her oddly now as well. Many remember the horror that happened on the day Elizabeth disappeared, and some go as far as to blame the girl for succumbing to temptation and bringing such a fate on them all.

Despite her fatigue and the waning of her power, Margaret begs her to come along to bless a wedding. Elizabeth is hesitant to go, remembering the last wedding she bore witness to; it was the first time she had kissed Meliodas, and a lump rises in her throat as she remembers. But the goddess knows she must do what she must, so she performs the dance with her sister, flowers sprouting beneath them as they complete the blessing. When it is over, she is weary with the way her power pulses through her, and Elizabeth is all but dragging as their roles are concluded.

Elizabeth begins to follow her sister away, but then she pauses. An overwhelming urge to see the human custom once more overcomes her, and ignoring the shout from Margaret the goddess turns and hurries towards the ceremony. Once more she ducks into the hedges to spy the group, and once more she witnesses the exchanging of words and a kiss between the man and woman. A tear slips down her cheek, for both the beauty of the love she witnesses, and the ache for the love she might have had.

This time, Elizabeth stays. She watches the humans feast, and dance, and the party goes on until dusk. Then the couple is sent off together to a tent set apart from the others, and barely breathing, Elizabeth follows.

There is rustling from inside, and the goddess creeps closer, moving silently over the grass until she can peer between the flats. The couple kisses again and again, and Elizabeth sighs as the woman does when his mouth moves down her neck. Quickly the two undress one another until they are wrapped around each other, naked, their movements now familiar to the goddess. She can feel the deep ache within her as she watches them roll onto the thin mattress.

He spreads her legs and moves between them, just as Meliodas had done; her arms are around him, and they kiss over and over, his hands sliding over her chest. She moans and arches her back as his hips move, and Elizabeth holds her breath, recalling the twinge of pain when her demon had slid inside of her body. It had seemed so right then, but ended up being so wrong; Elizabeth had been so sure they were experiencing love as husband and wife. He had called her his wife and his queen so many times she had nearly begun to believe such a thing.

A cry pulls her attention, and Elizabeth stares intently at the couple. His hips are thrusting hard, battering against her thighs, and the woman's face is twisted in pain, one arm reaching up to cover her eyes. The goddess moves for a second in an attempt to heal the girl, but pauses, wanting to know what happens. She watches in awe as her muscles tense with her husband's movements, her fingers digging into the muscle of his arm. He leans up on his knees, holding her thighs apart, and he slowly pumps in and out of her. Finally he presses his body inside of her walls, panting as his back and shoulders shake, and the girl moans, her head moving side to side.

Elizabeth can barely breathe as he finishes. Then he leans down and kisses the tears on her cheeks and murmurs, "You did so well my darling… so well…" His hand moves between her legs and begins to stroke her body, and their mouths meet in a passionate kiss.

"My sister said… it won't hurt so much the next time…" The woman gasps as he finds a spot inside of her, and her words die away as she pumps her hips against his hand.

He kisses her flushed neck, licking the glistening skin. "Yes my darling… I promise you it will feel good."

Elizabeth sinks to the ground, pulling the flap of the tent shut and closing her eyes. This couple is in love; they gave each other their hearts; they made their oath. And yet she experienced the same pain. Could she have been wrong? Her hand goes to her cheek and finds more tears rolling down her face.

The image of the couple is in her mind the rest of the night, and still haunts her when she wakes from restless sleep. With a heavy heart and mind the goddess goes about her morning, moving off on her own to rest as she watches buds begin to blossom on the trees. She thinks of Meliodas, wondering what he is doing. Does he miss her? Is he grieving, as she is? It hurts to think he may not be… he did send her away after all. Elizabeth wishes for a chance to see him and explain, and to apologize. She had wanted him to love her, which was impossible. The guilt of this sin weighs heavily on her shoulders.

In her lap is an orange, and the goddess slowly digs into the skin, pulling the peel away. The sticky fruit smells delicious, but off somehow, as if it is not for _her_. She swallows thickly as she rips a piece away, holding the plump fruit in her hand for a moment. Then she slips it onto her tongue, closing her eyes as she bites down, the pungent juice squirting out and filling her mouth. It is cool and sweet and perfect, as everything else in Britannia. And still, it feels wrong.

Nothing in Britannia will satisfy her now, the goddess knows this. Elizabeth cannot experience joy anymore, because there is no sorrow to counteract it. Her desire for the demon only sparked after he startled her; their passion evolved after the agony of seeing her precious charge in the Underworld. It was the pain of losing her family that allowed her to find comfort in Meliodas, and the more he gave to her, the more she wanted to give as well in return.

With a bitter sound she tosses the orange away in frustration. _Nothing_ is the same, nothing ever will be the same. Her stomach churns and she places a hand over it, rubbing small circles. She thinks of the table in Meliodas' castle laden with every food that could be desired. He had tried to entice her with that table every night, and every night her fear had kept her from eating the food. She knew that accepting his table would tie her to the Underworld forever. But as she had sat in the king's chair, staring down at Estarossa's half-eaten meal, she cursed her cowardice and the lie she told herself that she did not want to be bound to the demon king.

So she had eaten a single pomegranate seed as a way to hold a part of him forever.

"Elizabeth!" one of the goddesses calls. With a heaving sigh she climbs to her feet and joins the others. They head in a group towards a home, and the feeling of death is heavy and thick as they approach the house. The others whisper and whimper, but Elizabeth is unafraid. She leaves them behind as she enters.

There is one dimly lit room, and inside an old man lays dying on a bed. Next to him is an equally ancient woman, knitting and waiting. Elizabeth moves around to the side, extending her powers out to assess the dying man. He is ill, and his body is frail and ready to rest; she presses between them and sees that there is a sense of relief from them both, and that the wife will not be far behind.

She pauses for a moment, unsure of what to do. Normally as a goddess of healing she would pour her magic into the man, give him strength and cure his illness so he could have more time. But what would be the meaning of such an act? He is ready for the Underworld, and he wants the freedom of the afterlife. Should she deny him this gift for another? Elizabeth thinks of Purgatory, and the rolling green hills and crisp waterfalls, the clear night sky and the trees heavy with fruit. Is that not preferable than this dark room and stale air, where he would be confined until another illness came along to invade his body?

The old woman looks up at her, and Elizabeth returns the stare in surprise. It is not often that she is recognized. "Have you come to heal him?" she rasps.

"No, Mother," Elizabeth whispers. "Only to ease the pain to the other side."

The woman sighs and nods. "Good. He is ready to go."

Elizabeth takes a seat on the side of the bed and takes the man's hand. His breathing is shallow, and her powers seep into him through his veins. She soothes his pain, and feels his sore body relax. For a long moment the three sit in silence, and Elizabeth pictures the great hall, the dark throne on which the king sits in wait, and the doors on either side that lead to fate.

Finally the man gives a last shuddering breath, and as his eyes close for a final time, Elizabeth cannot help but smile.

She turns at the feeling of a hand on her shoulder, and Elizabeth is surprised to see Margaret there. "You could not save him?" the goddess says sadly.

Elizabeth shakes her head. "He was ready to go. He wanted to go."

Margaret gasps. "No one wants to die, Elizabeth! How could you do this? You've betrayed what it means to be a goddess of life!"

She sucks in a breath and stands. "You don't understand, Margaret. You haven't been there as I have. It can…" The goddess clenches her fists in frustration, trying to find the right words. "The souls have a place of peace and happiness. How could I deny him that?"

"You denied him _life_ , Elizabeth," says her sister harshly. "That is unforgivable."

But before she can argue back, there is a moan, and both goddesses turn. The aged man in the bed opens his eyes, and his mouth hangs open as he gasps for air. "Father?" Elizabeth exclaims, sitting on the bed again. "What happened? I thought you had gone!"

"Nothing," he rasps, his eyes wide and wild. "Nothing."

A sinking feeling rolls down her spine. "What? What is it?"

The man gives another moan. "There is nothing," he groans. "Death has locked its doors."

Elizabeth jumps to her feet, gaping down at him in horror. "What does this mean?" Margaret cries out, her hands covering her mouth.

"Something is wrong," says Elizabeth slowly. "The entrance for the dead is shut. Meliodas has closed the Underworld." She turns around and looks at her sister frantically. "I must go! I must see what is wrong!"

She runs for the door, hurrying out into the afternoon, but Margaret catches her wrist before she can get far. "You are not going!" Margaret screams. "You are a goddess!"

"Let me go!" cries Elizabeth, yanking her hand away. "I need to see him. I need to know!"

She runs as fast as she can, not knowing where to go, what to do, but knowing she must get to the Underworld as fast as she can. But how? Where? Meliodas had brought her there, and her father's power had brought her home. There is no hope of asking for Baltra's help, and no way to contact Meliodas.

Elizabeth sinks to the ground, a sob escaping her. Her heart aches and she buries her face in her hands. Fear and sorrow overwhelm the goddess. For the first time, she sees life as a curse.

Suddenly an idea sparks. If she cannot find the entrance to the Underworld, she will seek admittance the only other way she knows. Goddesses are immortal, but not invincible. They will live forever unless their life is purposefully taken away.

She scrambles on the ground, looking for a sharp rock. Her hand finally clasps around one and Elizabeth collapses against a tree. The tears are flowing freely now as she takes one trembling breath after another. She must do this for him. _She must do this_. But once more her fear holds her back, once more her cowardice makes her hesitate.

Elizabeth looks at her arm, smooth and unblemished. She grits her teeth and places the sharp edge of the stone against her flesh and pushes, wincing in pain as the first beads of blood appear. With an anguished cry she continues to dig, the blood dripping and then spilling down her arm and onto the white fabric of her dress. Her shoulders shake and she drops the makeshift blade on the ground, watching as her life drains from her in rivers. The weakness that begins to overtake her as one minute after another ticks by is welcome.

An energy that is dark and familiar approaches, but Elizabeth cannot place it at first. She hears her name, and in a daze she lifts her eyes. Two demons stand before her, the brothers of the king, and her weeping turns to a burst of laughter. "Am I dead?" she asks dreamily. "Have you come to take me to the Underworld?"

"Your Grace," says the younger, kneeling down. He covers her bleeding arm with his hand. "This way is locked."

"I need to see him," she whispers, looking into his dark eyes. "I need to go back."

"You ate the fruit, didn't you?" Estarossa asks. Elizabeth looks up, squinting in the sun to see him staring down at her with folded arms but not looking entirely unpleased. She nods and he continues, "Then you will be tied there forever. Nothing here will fully satisfy you."

Elizabeth briefly closes her eyes. There is a tingling on her arm, and when she glances down she can see her skin repairing itself, the blood clotting as Zeldris presses his fingers around her skin. Goddesses can heal others but not themselves; she knows it must be the demon's powers that are mending her arm "Why are you doing this?" she whispers.

Zeldris looks at her. "I sacrificed a love once, just as you did. That was my offering to the gods for my power."

Elizabeth blinks, and instinctively she reaches out to slide her fingers over his hand, her powers pressing forward to comfort. "You loved someone?"

The demon nods. "I did, and I gave her away. I walked away from her as you walked away from the king, and I can feel your heart regrets it as deeply as mine." His eyes widen a bit in surprise and he looks up at his brother. "I can feel her healing. How is this possible?"

"Your Grace," Estarossa says, also kneeling down before the goddess. "You ate the food of the Underworld. Now you will not feel complete. You will not be truly satisfied by anything, as I can never be. This was my sacrifice."

"It's not true," she replies. She takes his hand as well, allowing the healing energy to flow to both. "I am complete, when I am with the king. I love him."

The brothers exchange a glance before pulling her to her feet. "Then we will take you to him," Zeldris says, and at once they take off in a flurry of dark wings and rushing wind.

Elizabeth is breathless and trembling when they reach the entrance to the Underworld, but when they let her go on shaking legs she can immediately see what the old man had spoken of when his soul returned to his body. The doors are shut, and the cavern they lead into are covered in a thick darkness that Elizabeth had only seen a handful of times before. It looks at though the Underworld has become overrun with the black energy, but she walks towards it unafraid, stretching her arms out to allow the wisps to touch her skin. It feels like sparks on her arms, the hairs on the back of her neck rising; but they make way for the queen as she moves through the clustering shadow.

The doors open on their own, but as soon as she passes through they slam shut behind her. The darkness is complete inside, and Elizabeth must wade through completely blind. Yet the goddess trusts the energy she knows belongs to her demon, and in turn it guides her down the journey all souls must make to meet the king. It keeps her on the path, saving her from even a stumble.

Her heart is beating wildly as she walks. She can feel Meliodas growing closer, and it is everything within her not to run forward, no matter the consequences. Somehow the darkness becomes dimmer, and whether it is fading as she moves towards the source or her eyes simply adjust she could never say for sure. Even though it blankets her and the Underworld, never does Elizabeth feel suffocated, never does she feel fear. Her footsteps grow surer as she finally reaches the great hall.

Meliodas sits on his black throne, bent over, his back rising and falling with agony. The darkness that has seeped through the realm leads into markings along his skin, and he stares blankly and unblinkingly forward. Elizabeth calls his name, and when he does not answer she stops for the first time, afraid she is too late.

"Meliodas?" she calls as she approaches the figure sitting frozen in the throne. "Meliodas, I need to give you something."

There is no sound as she approaches, the darkness absorbing the echo of her voice, the soft footfalls. Slowly she climbs the stairs of the dais until she stands before the king. With a hesitant hand she reaches out for him, and finds his skin surprisingly cool under her touch. Elizabeth kneels at his feet, her hands sliding along his thighs, and she tilts her face to look up at him. "Meliodas. I have a gift for you."

Still he does not answer. Her hands move up his arms, and then she presses one flat against his chest. "I want to give you my heart."

The king does not move, so Elizabeth closes her eyes. With all of her strength, she pours her emotions into the demon, willing his darkness back, praying he will accept her gift. A moment goes by, then another, when suddenly there is a tearing inside of her. Elizabeth bites her lip sharply to keep herself from crying out in pain. It feels as though her chest is being pulled apart, and she gasps with labored breathing through the sensation.

The seconds tick by in a blur of agony. She is both overwhelmed by sorrow and joy, and her cheeks are wet. How many times has she cried today? But it makes no difference; she enjoys the pain and tears while she still can feel, before her heart is gone.

Fingers grip her wrist and wrench her hand away. Elizabeth goes limp, her energy spent, and she whimpers. She tips backwards into the blackness as arms grab her up, the searing in her chest fading into a dulled sort of pulse. The goddess of life and queen of death whispers the name of her love as she sinks into nothingness.

* * *

There is no pleasure without pain. No joy without sorrow. No life without death. This is a lesson that Meliodas and Elizabeth learn in their final moments as she gives him her heart. Rewards are only given to those who sacrifice.

The goddess and the demon understand this now, and so does all of Britannia.

This had not been Elizabeth's intention. She had wanted to give her _whole_ heart to her demon, but the king had revived with the force of her resolve and had stopped her before she gave it all away. Meliodas had awoken as if from a dream, the darkest dream that could be imagined. Sending Elizabeth away had torn out the sliver of emotion that had taken root inside of him. His mind had awakened by being with her, his passion and feelings coming to life like some long-lost muscle memory, the legs of a lame man relearning to walk. The loneliness and loss had filled the void inside of him, until it spilled out and consumed his realm, the thing he had sacrificed for in the first place.

When Meliodas _felt_ again, it was the press of her hand that brought him back; when his senses returned, he then could hear her voice and see her eyes and smell the scent of wildflowers. Immediately the demon knew what she was doing, _what she had already done_ , and tried to put a stop to it. If he could not survive her being gone without a heart, how could he hope to go on with one beating in his chest?

Now the two are forever a part of each other. The light and the dark cannot survive without one another. The goddess of life and the lord of the Underworld now share a heart, each with a perfect half. They are forever connected in their love.

It was the goddess' turn to sleep, having nearly died in the task. She had used almost the last drop of her healing magic to transfer the precious heart into the king. He watched over her as she slept, while he set his brothers to the task of opening the doors and sorting the souls that had been waiting. Meliodas sat and waited, as he had in his throne, but the heart inside of his chest kept the darkness at bay. He had the ability to feel and to love and to grieve and now he could understand himself, understand it all.

When she wakes, he goes to her, and the kiss they share is sweeter than their first, more intense than their last. For the first time, Meliodas is unsure, hesitating as his hands grip her waist. But it is Elizabeth who urges him closer, tears weighing heavily on her lashes to hold the demon again. The passion that builds between them is new with their connected hearts, and with a steady pace towards the inevitable, they worship one another.

Meliodas had always found her beautiful, sweet, breathtaking, delicious; now she is more precious than he could have imagined. He watches in awe as she removes her dress, shaking in anticipation, feverish with the raging need. Still he is anxious, even as she pulls on his clothing, even as their mouths taste one another again and again. Her whispered promises of love and trust settle his nerves even as her fervent kisses on his neck and chest stir the flame inside of him in a new and thrilling way. He can barely keep up with the way she moves on him, the way her tongue teases him, the way her fingers graze and caress him.

"Elizabeth," he says, rolling her over, caging her in with his limbs. To lose her and get her back so suddenly has him in a whirlwind, and he wants to pause and think and breathe her in. But the goddess has other ideas, her hands moving down his sides. The gentle touches make his body twitch, his blood pounding as the desire within him roars to life. His eyes drag down her body, growing hooded when they slide over her elegant neck, her hardened nipples, her squirming hips, her gleaming thighs. "I can't hurt you again," he moans, blinking slowly, trying to drag himself out from under this shroud.

Her hands go to his cheeks, her palms tilting his face so he has no choice but to look in her eyes. "I love you," she says, and his heart skips a beat. "I promise to love you and stay with you forever. My heart is yours." She spreads her thighs to wrap around him, pulling him closer until his body is pressing against the blazing heat of her center.

Meliodas leans down and kisses her chest, her heart beating beneath his lips. His kiss trails down the inside of her breast, and Elizabeth sighs, her body arching a bit as her frantic movements still. Now that she is giving herself to him, he begins to roll his hips, grazing her slit with the length of him, teasing her until she is moaning softly.

Then he draws himself over her, brushing a kiss on the corner of her lips. "I love you," responds the king. "I promise to love you and keep you forever. My heart is yours." He covers her mouth with his, and they pour the love they have pledged into the kiss, which is slow and deep and passionate. The words have been spoken, the oath has been made. Nothing can undo this vow between a god and a goddess.

Elizabeth sighs in pleasure as he slowly rocks into her body, the sound sending a spiral of bliss through him. She is perfect, delicate, delicious. Her head falls to the side, her eyes closing bashfully, and he kisses her dark lashes as they brush her cheeks. Slowly, slowly, he inches inside of her, until he is swallowed by her heat, until they are once more joined in ecstasy.

Their hands entwined, they move together, both moaning as Meliodas thrusts slowly, shallowly. His heart feels next to bursting with pleasure. Never had he dared to imagine the sound she would make as he slid in and out of her walls, never had he pictured the rosy tint of her flesh as she shuddered in his arms, never had he thought to hear the deep groaning that comes from her chest. He tastes her flushed skin; he drives himself into her tight, wet body. Elizabeth's cries ignite his blood. Her lips on his intensify his building rapture.

And then, it hits, the moment of bliss, and Elizabeth is twisting and squeezing and calling his name, even as he is thrusting and groaning and dragging her earlobe between his teeth. His mind spins with the pleasure, afraid of it ending, afraid of it never stopping. She goes limp beneath him, and he grinds his hips with his own pleasure as he finishes spilling inside of his goddess, his queen, his wife.

There is no pleasure without pain, and the same is true for the king and queen of the Underworld. For though she belongs to Meliodas, Elizabeth is still a goddess of life, and her duty means she must return to Britannia. Without her, the world is withering away, the plants dying as the sun disappears, the ground growing hard under the freezing wind. The humans do not understand the change, and they are dying, unable to farm or hunt or provide for their children. Baltra demands her return, and the gods must step in for her to fulfill her purpose.

But Elizabeth has eaten the fruit of the Underworld. She has given her heart to its king, has spoken an unbreakable oath of love, so she will return. She will perform her tasks and bring life to the world, and then return to her place by her demon's side, only going back once again when Britannia is ready for rebirth.

While she is gone, the king waits. He watches Elizabeth in the ceiling of his throne room, just as he had when she made flower crowns and laid among the tall grasses, wondering how the humans showed love. He smiles now, however, the half of her heart that she gave him beating steadily. Meliodas rules his kingdom as he is bound, maintaining the beauty of Purgatory, which the souls have renamed Paradise. He waits for the return of his other half, so they can join their hearts and voices and bodies as they have always been meant.

* * *

 **A/N:** Endings are so bittersweet, and now I have two in as many days. This story was meant to be a oneshot, if you can believe it, until it took on a life of its own. I am so very happy to have shared it with all of you, and I welcome your comments, both good and bad. I appreciate all of you who have read this story. I do believe I may return to this world at least one more time, so perhaps this isn't the end.

Once more I must commend the amazing BettyBest2 for her role in reading this story, and for crafting the most incredible companion piece with _Take My Heart_. I am still amazed by you, my dear, and I am humbled by your talent.


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